Heroes and Villains
by Eruvanda
Summary: The strangled memories of someone who isn't Midgardian. Eltrys, commonly known as Ella, is a traitor, a liar, manipulative, afraid of the dark, and cursed. And you can blame Baldr for that. (Also some Avengers)
1. Chapter 1

"Listen, kid, I really don't think-"

"Oh, shut _up_ already."

"What?"

"I promise you, your employer will want to see me. Just get out of the way, will you?"

"Loki's not really my employer. He doesn't pay me."

"Look, Robin Hood, I couldn't care less. Now let me through, or I will turn you into a frog...or something."

The Archer opened his mouth to protest again, but was cut off by her target's arrival.

"Barton, what is going o-"

"Hi."

He paused, and stared at her for a solid ten seconds before continuing.

"How are you not-"

"Not on Vanaheim? Long story."

"Would you stop-"

"Stop interrupting you? No."

"What do you want?"

"That's a much shorter story. I want you to get me back to Asgard. In return, I'll help you with your invasion."

"For what reason would I ever trust you, Eltrys?" he hissed.

"Oh, you don't have to trust me. It's just that I'll banish you from the soils of Midgard for a few centuries if you don't cooperate."

"You presume to threaten me?"

She held a hand up to stop his advancing form.

"I'm not threatening you, prince. I'm telling you. Sure, you can cast spells way beyond my ability; you could probably even kill me. But while on Midgard, your power will never rival my own. This is my territory."

The thin smile that spread across his face was not quite smug, and not quite amused, but something in between.

"The first I've ever heard you lay claim to your human blood."

"Well," she said with a wry grin, "Some of us deal with adoption better than others."

The Prince's laugh was far from genuine. "What is it exactly that you intend to do?"

"Oh, you're going to love it."

* * *

She walked down the street at a pace far too fast to be casual, but being inconspicuous was not nearly as important as catching up to the Famous Hero. He was exiting a building amidst flashing cameras and grim-faced bodyguards, spouting variations of 'No questions, please,' as he was ushered into an immaculate white sports car.

Ella picked up her pace, forcing her way through the crowd of reporters with sheer willpower. Knowing a simple 'Hey!' would never catch his attention, she swallowed her no-names habit and called out.

"Mr Stark!"

Her voice rang high and clear above the clamoring reporters, easily snagging a look from behind the Famous Hero's red-tinted aviators. Ella breathed a lop-sided grin as she pushed out in front of the crowd.

"Mr Stark, I need to speak with you."

"Get in line," he said, gesturing to the gathering around them.

"Oh, trust me, what I have to say is much more important than an interview."

"Is it?"

"I have information on where you and your team can find that pesky Asgardian trickster you've been searching for."

A burly security guard tried to urge the Famous Hero into the car, but the billionaire held up a hand.

"What do you know?"

She fished a carefully-folded scrap of paper from her leather jacket and held it out to him.

"I don't like to be handed things," he said with an impatient tap of his foot. She didn't move, continuing to extend the paper, her icy blue eyes locked in an amused stare, laced with the barest of threats. The Famous Hero cleared his throat uncomfortably, and took the paper.

"Coordinates," Ella explained as he unfolded it, her voice low as the reporters began to clear. He took one brief look and slipped it into his pocket.

"How do I know this isn't a diversion crafted by Loki?"

"I guess you'll just have to find out, won't you?"

"That's not very compelling," he remarked, sliding into the car, "but I feel like it's all I'll get."

"You're not wrong."

The car started with a purr and sped off. Ella stood alone on the street now, the reporters and paparazzi having all left. With a dramatic sigh, she dug her phone from her pocket and dialed the Archer's number; it only rang once.

"Tell your boss that Tin Man took the coordinates."

"I assume the Tin Man is Tony Stark."

"No, I'm clearly talking about the Wizard of Oz."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll let him know. You should probably get on over to Germany. I'll meet you there."

* * *

"How can you be so sure Thor won't recognize you? You're not using any concealing magic."

Ella glanced sideways to the flickering illusion of the Prince, a skeptical annoyance written into her look.

"I don't need it," she said, unceremoniously dumping materials into a duffle bag. "I'm speaking English, not Asgardian, wearing Midgardian clothing, haven't used the name Ella in over eight centuries, and I'm surely the last thing on his mind right now. It's really not plausible that I would show up to your little alien invasion. Therefore, he won't suspect a thing."

"Fine. But if he catches on, I'm not coming after you."

"I would be utterly floored if you did."

"Glad that's settled then," the Prince said; he waved a hand and the illusion vanished, leaving Ella alone again. She mentally ran over the checklist of everything she needed and satisfied, zipped the duffle closed and slung it over her shoulder. There was a bit of a clinking as the items inside settled, but nothing broke.

Her ears perked up at a distant screaming, undoubtedly the black-tie event the Prince was violently crashing. She silently slipped into the street from the new-age hoodoo shop she'd been raiding. Most of its contents were completely worthless, but there were a few ingredients she'd needed. Ella ran down the empty street, and turned the corner into a badly-lit alleyway, where an unmarked van waited. She slid the door open with inhuman speed, tossed the duffle inside, and slammed the door shut. Hopefully the Archer wouldn't forget to pick it up later.

She sped towards the continuing commotion, passing numerous people who screamed at her in German, probably to run the other way. She heard police sirens, then the unmistakable sound of magic, followed by a tremendous crash.

She slid into the chaos at just the right time, coming face to face with the Prince, who slammed his scepter into her stomach, sending her into the pavement. She caught herself and rolled, standing again with a glare; he'd hit a little harder than was necessary. Another burst of magic and she was in the air, gasping for breath around his choke hold. Not that she was in any real danger, other than falling unconscious, but the terrified group of party-goers didn't know that.

The Prince began his speech, excellently crafted, but long-winded, as usual, all the while Ella 'struggled' for air. She mostly ignored what he was saying, until he raised his scepter, aimed into the crowd. Curious, she looked down just in time to see a blue figure jump into the scepter's path, the blast ricocheting off his shield brilliantly. She was at the wrong angle to see properly, but she guessed it had to be the Veteran; the soldier that had been around too long, seen just a little too much war. By this time, her vision had begun to swim, and black spots formed on the edges.

The Veteran demanded that the Prince release Ella, and stand down to be taken in. The Asgardian looked up at her, quickly assessed her condition, and held on for a moment longer.

She retained consciousness just long enough to feel herself crash to the ground.

* * *

Ella awoke suddenly and silently. There was a soft roaring sound in the air, and the floor strangely warm. She propped herself up on one elbow and looked around; it was a small jet. The Prince was on the far end, cuffed and bound. The Veteran and the Famous Hero were closer to her, and if she bent her head just enough, she could see the barest strand of red hair piloting the jet. The Spy, she reasoned.

"Hey. Stark."

She looked up to see the Veteran directing the Famous Hero's attention at her. They moved closer, and the Veteran extended a hand.

"Can you stand?" he asked. Ella nodded, and he pulled her to her feet.

"You brought me on your plane?" she asked skeptically, straightening her jacket.

"The way you showed up twice in situations regarding Loki made me curious," replied the Famous Hero. "I can see two reasons. A, you're working for our viking friend over there, or B, you've got some kind of hero complex and were going after him yourself."

"Either way, we can't have you running around," finished the Veteran. "What's your name, kid?"

She exhaled a laugh, rolling her eyes the tiniest bit. These heroes and their affinity for calling her 'kid'.

"Ella Nithson," she said finally. "And I'm not working for or with that bastard."

"Of course, you would say that," commented the Famous Hero. "So what's-"

He was cut off by a sudden flash of light, rumble of thunder, and a visible measure of distress from the Prince.

"What, scared of a little lightning?"

"I'm not overly fond of what follows."

The trickster glanced at Ella, which she returned with the tiniest of nods.

A solid thud rocked the jet; the Famous Hero went to take a look, and suddenly a newcomer was standing there, framed by lightning and dripping with rain.

Without so much as a glance at Ella or the Veteran, the Warrior grabbed his brother and was gone.

"That was interesting," said Ella.

The Veteran turned to her with an expression of intense judgment.

"Loki's gone, and all you can say is 'that's interesting'? Aren't you mildly concerned we don't catch him again?"

"No, not really. If you're so worried, then go get him."

"I'm working on it," he replied, strapping on a parachute. "Romanoff! Keep an eye on her!"

"Will do," the Spy said, "Be careful out there, captain. These guys are practically gods."

Ella was internally laughing too hard to pay attention to the Veteran's response before he jumped from the jet.

* * *

"Well, now that Loki's been taken care of," said the Famous Hero, pushing a chair towards Ella, "What's your deal?

They were on the deck of the helicarrier. Uniformed agents moved below, the Director standing in his place of command. The Spy and the Veteran sat at a large table, flicking through files, and the Warrior stood at a distance, seemingly ignoring the rest of the heroes. The final hero, the Scientist, was nowhere to be seen.

"What do you mean?" she asked, taking the offered chair.

"I mean, how'd you know where Loki was? Why were you also in Germany? What's keeping us from throwing you out a window into the ocean? Who are you, what do you want, the usual."

"Hmm. Let's just say I'm a...sorceress of sorts. Except I don't do that potion-making nonsense. I'm the real deal."

He looked utterly unimpressed. She sighed and held out a hand. A burst of blue light formed there, crackling with power, dancing wickedly in her palm. The billionaire leaned forward with curiosity.

"Huh."

She snuffed out the light with a flick of her wrist.

"I knew where your...adversary...was because I was able to track the Tesseract. I'm highly interested in its properties. I told you because I didn't think I could get him out of the way long enough to take a look at it."

"Hold on."

Ella and the Famous Hero looked up; the Veteran rose from his seat and came around the table to them.

"Did you say you tracked the Tesseract?"

She nodded.

"Can you do it again?"

"Sure. But I'll need to be within eyesight of the last person who had it."

"You mean Loki."

"Yes."

"Why do you keep avoiding his name?" asked the Famous Hero. "It's not that hard to say."

"It's a habit."

"Save it for later, Stark. Ms Nithson, what do you need to do this?"

"Oh, a bunch of things. But first, does this boat have a bathroom? I have an intense need to wash my hands."

The excitement in the Veteran's eyes died, replaced with mild annoyance. He pointed.

"Through there."

As soon as she was around the corner, and out of sight, she sprinted. The Archer said his inside man would put the duffle in a broom closet across from Storage 3A. Luckily, there were signs on every corner, and she found the storage wing quickly. Ella took a moment to dodge a patrolling guard, then slipped through the doorway marked '3A'. The closet was harder to find, as it was well-disguised for aesthetic purposes, with its edges only barely visible. But she found it at last, unlocked it with a push, and slid it to the side. Sure enough, her duffle bag lay on the floor among the mops and rags.

She returned to the deck with it slung over her shoulder, earning a questioning look from the Spy.

"Where'd you get that?"

"Pulled it from thin air. It's a useful trick."

"You can do that?"

"Yeah," Ella replied, swiping the air with her hand. She tossed the apple that appeared to the Veteran. "Ready to find your Tesseract?"

Once they'd led her to the glass cage that held the Prince, she knelt on the catwalk, setting the bag next to her. The heroes gathered behind her, joined now by the Scientist. Some scathing comment came from the other side of the glass, but Ella paid it no mind. She took a piece of chalk, miraculously unbroken, from the bag, and painstakingly drew two concentric circles on the metal beneath her, followed by a series of runes between them. She then took a bowl and jar from the duffle. The bowl she set in the center of the circles, and emptied the contents of the jar into it.

"What is that?" asked someone behind her.

"Dirt."

She placed a ring of stones around the bowl. Some were simple and rough, others smooth, and the rest glittered like gold.

"Nice magic rocks," said the Famous Hero.

"Thanks. I stole them from someone's potted plant."

"Dirt and craft store rocks? Are you sure you're the real deal?"

Ella looked back at the Famous Hero with a grin before moving to sit cross-legged in front of the circles, facing the cage. She put her hands together and summoned an eerie electric blue light that drifted lazily through her fingers. Suddenly, the Prince stood and moved to the front of his cell, eyes wide.

"You wouldn't dare," he said, teeth clenched. She looked him in dead in the eye.

"Try me."

With a jerk, her hands flew apart, the light spilling onto the circle. A shriek pierced the air as the rocks lit up brilliantly, sending a ray of magic in the air that floated just above her head. The Prince slammed his fist against the glass with rage as the room darkened.

"This wasn't the plan!" he yelled.

"It was _my_ plan," she scoffed.

"The plan?" the Spy echoed. "So you _were_ working for him?"

"Nope," Ella replied. "But I am a pretty convincing liar." She extended a hand to the Veteran. "Help me up."

"I get this feeling you aren't actually tracking the Tesseract," he said as he pulled her to her feet.

"Oh, god no. I don't need a ritual and runes to do that."

"Then what are you doing?"

"Getting rid of your trickster problem."

"If you take one more step towards that spell, you'll regret it," hissed the Prince.

"How's that?"

"You'll never get back to Asgard without my help, Eltrys."

The Warrior stiffened, his hammer tight in his fist.

"Of course I will. See, you just said my name, which means your brother now knows who I am, which means he'll take me there." Ella turned to see the Warrior advancing on her. "Probably in chains," she added.

The Asgardian grabbed Ella's collar, pushing her ever-so-slightly over the railing.

"Why are you on Midgard, Eltrys?" he growled.

"Your father exiled me from all nine realms, which is completely illogical. Where exactly was I supposed to go?"

"There are other worlds outside Yggdrasil."

"Who cares? Besides, you didn't really seem to mind when I was trapped on Vanaheim."

"You took an oath, Eltrys, that you wouldn't set foot on Asgard, Midgard, or any of the other nine realms, without permission."

"Yeah, well, I lied. In the mean time, _sir_, that banishing spell is getting overcharged. You can cuff me later."

He held her for a moment longer, then released his grip. Ella straightened herself and moved back towards the pulsing light.

"Eltrys, do not," said the Prince, his voice dangerously low. She ignored him and began to whisper ancient words into the spell. She was halfway through a sentence when the Prince drew back his hand and threw something dark and sinister that flew through the glass and towards her head.

The collision sent Ella crashing into the wall, thick smoke whirling all around her. She fell to the floor, screaming and gasping for breath as inky black liquid streamed from her eyes and spread across her fingertips. An indistinguishable voice filled the air, whispering ancient things that sent shivers down the spines of the on-lookers.

"Loki, what have you done!?" boomed the Warrior, his blue eyes wide with terror. "Not even Eltrys deserves this!"

"Just giving back what's rightfully hers," he spat. "You may want to help her stabilize, brother. That spell of hers it getting a little too strong."

The Warrior waited a moment, hesitating, then moved to Ella. He set down his hammer and knelt on one knee by her, ignoring the pooling black liquid.

"Eltrys," he growled. "You need to gain control."

She responded with a cry of pain. He looked up to his fellow heroes.

"Do any of you have a spare strip of cloth?"

The Veteran produced a handkerchief from nowhere and tossed to to the blonde Asgardian. He caught it, flipped it a few times to form a blindfold, and tied it securely around her eyes. Almost immediately, Ella's shuddering stopped, and the dark stains on her fingers receded. The sinister whispering was silenced. She took a few deep breaths and stood, still blindfolded, and easily found her way to the growing blue light. With a swipe of her hand, it was gone, the chalk, dirt, and stones all burned into ash. Light returned to the room, and Ella fell to the ground, cracking her head on the iron railing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thor's POV**

"Eltrys called Nithe, you are here to be tried for your crimes aga-"

"I have committed no crimes against this realm!" she protested with a small noise of frustration. Thor watched quietly from his position behind Odin's throne, hands clasped and Mjolnir by his side. It occurred to him how exhausted Eltrys looked. Her armor was dented, though polished, and the ends of her dark, faded, red cape fell in tattered ends around her knees.

"Silence!" Odin demanded. "You have been found to be disgraced and fallen from the standards of Asgard. You have no right to speak unless spoken to. Now, let me continue. You _have_ indeed committed crimes against Asgard, but that is for another time. We are here to discuss the offences against the realm of Midgard. These-"

Once again, Eltrys interrupted. "Fine, then, Odin. Let me be tried by the Midgardian authorities!"

Thor's eyes narrowed. There was something wrong with that sentence, but what, he wasn't sure.

"You WILL show respect!" the king bellowed.

"I WILL NOT BE SILENT!" she cried furiously. "You can't keep me here!"

She could not make up her mind, Thor noted. She had wanted to return to Asgard, but now she was angry?

"As an Asgardian, you are under my rule, and you will face the consequences of your actions as determined by your king! Further more, as a Knight of the Realms, you are held responsible for actions performed in any realm!"

A lopsided grin grew on her face "Well, I can certainly argue against that."

"Your human bloodline is irrelevant! You are more of Asgard than Midgard, were raised Asgardian, and took an oath for Asgard. Even if you are to be counted partially human, this realm is a guardian of Midgard, and therefore you are STILL under my rule!"

"A guardian of Midgard? Did they ask for that? What gives you, oh mighty king, the right to decide the fates of other realms? Why is it that Asgard is the 'supreme ruler' of Yggdrasil?" she mocked. "What makes Asgard so important that it feels it must reach out and cast a shadow over others?"

"One more word, Nithe, and I may likely add to your list of crimes. And it's already a very long list," Odin warned in a deadly calm voice. She fell silent, but not without a defiant glare. Thor had to wonder how long she could try his father's patience before he snapped. Perhaps that was her purpose.

"Now, without interruption, these are your crimes against Midgard. You aided a fugitive of Asgard by hiding him from Midgard's warriors, these 'Avengers'. Evidence was found that your magics had allowed for the Chitauri's entrance into Midgard. You are responsible for the deaths of many Midgardians. And overall, you failed your duties as a Knight of the Realms to detain such a criminal. Do you say these accusations to be true?"

"All true," she said, suddenly chipper, "Except the second to last one. The Avengers did their job well. To my knowledge, only a handful of Midgardians were killed, and I had nothing to do with it."

"Thor," Odin said, turning to his firstborn, "Does she speak truth?"

"Yes, father." He left off that the deaths were Loki's doing.

"Where did you find evidence my magic allowed foreigners into Midgard?" Eltrys asked. Her voice was fairly reserved, genuine confusion on her face.

"Other than your previous admittance to this?" Odin growled. "Loki testified to it."

"You're charging me for a crime on the word of another prisoner; Loki, a trickster, no less!?" She cried, suddenly straining against her bonds, causing the guards to tense. Thor had to agree, it wasn't valid grounds, until she had confirmed it, but there was nothing he could do.

"You confessed!" Odin shouted, rising a little from his throne.

"But surely you would have punished me for it nevertheless; am I wrong?" she replied, with a smooth wink. Thor wondered at her wide emotional range. This was out of a little out of character for the usually stony-faced Eltrys. The All-father waved his hand and proceeded with the trial.

"Under normal circumstances, these crimes would end in your execution, Eltrys. But it was promised to you long ago that a small amount of mercy would be given to you if you were to accomplish one task: to wake Baldr from his sleep. I give you this sentence, and you shall abide by it: you will remain in the dungeons for a period of one thousand years, if you can heal Baldr. If you cannot, once the period of one thousand years is finished, every day my son remains soulless will be another year you are a prisoner. Do you understand?"

"I understand," she replied with a frown, "But I hope you know that if there was something I could do to save Baldr, I would have done it years ago."

"Then you will rot in the dungeons of Asgard. Take her away."

Eltrys willingly followed the guards, not bothering to resist. She was no fool. It was then that Thor realized what had bothered him about the conversation. He knew she had the Blackness inside of her; therefore, she ought to revert to her meticulously careful habit of not using names. But she hadn't. As if coming to the same realization, she turned to look at Thor with a suspicious expression. The room suddenly felt cold and empty until the moment the door clicked shut behind her.

He had no pity for Eltrys. She deserved punishment, but somehow he was afraid for her, something he couldn't explain. And there was the curiosity. Could she actually cure Baldr? He did a quick calculation in his head. It had been nearly 800 years since he had spoken with his youngest brother. His thoughts were interrupted as the door opened once again, this time with a larger escort of guards marching Loki towards the Golden Throne.


	3. Chapter 3

Eltrys stared sourly at the shimmering golden wall that held her in. Confinement wasn't so bad, but it was very, very boring. One of the more friendly guards had told her that the fallen prince was provided with books to read. She didn't care if he was the prince, it wasn't fair treatment. At least she was around the corner from his cell; she preferred not to see him gloat. She scowled and threw her small pillow at the wall.

"Eltrys."

She looked up to find the Warrior had appeared, not far from where the pillow had landed. He didn't look angry, but he didn't seem happy either.

"What do you need, _my lord_?"

The Warrior ignored the sarcasm.

"How did you get to Midgard? The Bifrost was destroyed."

"I was trapped on Vanaheim, as you know, until one day a sort of portal opened up and I decided 'Why not?'. I went through and found myself on Midgard."

"Is that a lie?"

"Yes."

He crossed his thick arms and studied her silently for several moments before disappearing again around the corner. She was surprised at how easy it was to get rid of him. Then again, she was also surprised he had bothered to visit at all. The future king of the Golden Realm surely had more pressing issues to deal with than Eltrys the Nithe.

Eltrys made a face at the wall. The very name Nithe was felt poisonous, filled with a rock-bottom reputation and ruined memories of the youngest prince. Baldr; _there_ was someone who deserved blame. It was really all his fault, after all.

* * *

"Ella! Where are you?" called the deep, husky voice. A young girl came skidding around the corner of the stone house, her feet bare and hair woven with stray flakes of straw. The big Asgardian man laughed at her state of appearance and bent over to pluck the straw from her hair. His laughter was rich and deep, and full of everything happy. His arms were thick and made for pulling a plow, and hair as blond as the sun; his daughter was small, willowy, and dark haired, but in the end, they had the same spirit.

"Oh, there you are, little darling. What a mess you are, indeed. Let's not tell your mother, shall we?"

The girl smiled at the thought and straightened with her hands clasped respectfully.

"What do you need, Papa?"

"I need you to go out to the fields, make sure I closed all the gates properly. There's a lot of wind and I think a few of them might have been blown open. You can get there a lot faster on that sheep of yours than I can."

The girl laughed. "Haynefr isn't a sheep, Papa. He's a pony."

The farmer crossed his arms. "Is that so? Forgive me, then. And tell him I'm terribly sorry I've been giving him sheep feed."

She giggled again. "I'll let him know."

Ella made her way to the stables, a skip in her step. She pried the heavy latch open and greeted Haynefr with a kiss on his soft black nose. The old pony stared at her in silence, perhaps too sleepy to reply. Ella struggled to lift the weighty saddle, but got it on his back eventually, and after a tightening of his bridle, she was off.

Her father's fields weren't huge, but they were big enough that a ride to the other end could take at least ten minutes on a slow mover like Haynefr, even at a canter. The tall, golden wheat brushed against her arms as she rode by, a pleasant tickling sensation that left her with a desire to harvest the wheat and eat warm, soft bread straight out of the oven. As her father had said, there was a lot of wind that created a ripple in the wheat and made her hold tighter to her ride. It wasn't long before she found the gate which, as predicted, was blowing freely in the wind, slamming constantly against a tree. Ella dismounted and tied Haynefr to a bush, not that she expected him to run.

Ella ran over to the gate and grabbed hold of the painted wood. She pushed with all her might, and with one last heave, brought it close to the fence and latched it tightly. For good measure, she wove a stout stick through the planks to hold it closed. She turned away and took a step before hearing a sharp ripping noise. She looked down and with a sigh, inspected the tear in her dress where the fabric had caught on a loose nail. At least it wasn't one of her good dresses. She had moved back to Haynefr, trying to untie the knot with numb fingers, when something soft and black came out of nowhere and blew against her face. She pulled it off, spluttering, and held it up for a better look. It was a thick coat, made of quality materials and decorated with precise embroidery along the edges.

"Hey! That's mine!"

Ella turned around to see a boy running towards her, arms outstretched to retrieve his coat. When he came closer, she could see he was close to tears. She silently handed it over to him, watching him hug it to his chest with an overly relieved expression.

"Calm down," Ella said, not sure if this boy was completely serious, "It's just a coat."

The boy looked horrified, his big brown eyes bigger than she thought was possible. "It's not just a coat," he said reverently, "It used to be my big brother's, but he gave it to me."

"Oh really? You must really like him."

He smiled proudly. "He's the crown prince, you know!"

Ella's eyes widened. "You're Thor's brother? That means you're Baldr, right? Umm..." Ella dropped into a clumsy curtsy. Baldr bowed back. "Why are you so far from the palace?" she asked.

"I'm running away."

"What? Why?"

Baldr stuck his hands in his pockets and kicked at a rock. "I don't want to be a prince. I don't like having to be all proper and talk to proper people. So I'm running away to become a fisherman!"

Ella held back a laugh. "Do you even know how to fish?"

"Well...I went fishing once with my brothers, but I think Loki made the fish come to me. He was just being nice."

Ella was quiet for a moment, trying to decide how to best explain to him that he couldn't run away. "You know...a lot of people would give a lot to even see the palace, much less live in it. I think you should appreciate that and not run away."

Baldr smiled. "You mean poor people like you?"

Ella stared at him. "I'm not poor!" she said indignantly.

"Then why is there a great big tear in your dress?"

"I ripped it trying to close the gate!" she huffed, crossing her arms defensively. She saw Baldr smiling at her and she blushed, realizing he had been messing with her, and she'd fallen straight for it.

"I don't care if you're a prince, you are such a boy!" Ella accused. "You really should go home and learn some manners."

He grinned and pulled on his brother's coat. "Maybe I'll take your advice. I'm sure I've given my mother enough of a scare that she'll get my message. But...it's a long way away."

"My father can take you. He has a horse back at the house. You can ride there with me on Haynefr."

"Is this your pony? I have one just like him, except she's brown, but I hope someday I'll have a big war horse like Loki does. Then I'll be a great warrior!"

Ella giggled. "Sure you will. Come on." She mounted Haynefr and held out a hand to help him up. The price settled himself behind her on the small saddle and Ella urged Haynefr fowards. He moved quickly despite himself, likely spurred on by the cold weather. When they reached the large stone house, Ella's father was outside, trying to round up the three dogs they owned. Ella slid from the saddle as Haynefr came to a stop, Baldr following. Her father straightened as they approached, a smile sweetening his face.

"Who's your friend, Ella?"

"Papa, this is Prince Baldr; he needs a ride back to the palace."

The big man bowed and Baldr accepted the gesture with a happy nod of his head. "I'll saddle my horse, then. Ella, you stay here and the prince can ride Haynefr." He thought for a moment. "How old are you, little master?"

"Nine, sir. Nearly ten."

"Oh! You're right about Ella's age, then. You're a little taller, though. I ought to lengthen those stirrups," he said, half to himself. He turned to Ella. "You, my darling, had better think real quick about a way to explain that rip in your dress and then go find your mother. She'll need your help with dinner."

"Yes, Papa," Ella replied. She handed Haynefr's reins to Baldr and gave him one last smile before going inside.

* * *

_ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN YEARS LATER, FEAST OF LITHSABLOT_

"Oh! What if the prince is there?"

"Which one? There's about three."

"I mean Thor, of course! Ella, the other two are alright, but he's just...beautiful."

Ella looked at her friend with faux pity. She sighed, trying to break the news gently. "Eony, you know he's the crown prince, right? As in, too busy to attend a feast in the country?"

Ella's realism didn't waver Eony's star-struck resolve. "I can dream, can't I?"

"That's the only thing you ever do."

"Well, you can't blame me for wanting to get out of here."

"No, but, Eony?"

"Yes, Ella?"

"Your hair is in your drink."

Eony inhaled sharply and grabbed at her blonde braid, sucking on it to remove the thick honey-sweetened drink, oblivious to the fact it had been placed there by Ella's quick fingers.

"Anyway, I need to go get ready. My mother would never let me go anywhere public in this," she said, gesturing to her simple brown work clothes and dirty field boots. "Can't say I blame her."

Eony huffed, but didn't argue. "My sisters are making cakes; I'm sure they'd appreciate my help. Wait, Ella, are you and your mother still..."

Ella shrugged. "She still thinks I'll never amount to anything, and likely always will, but I'll prove her wrong. I have a plan."

"Really? You have a plan?"

"...No. But I'll think of something."

Eony laughed, a light and airy sound, before standing and leaving Ella to herself. Ella ran back to the large stone house her family still occupied and ducked upstairs, trying to avoid her mother's critical gaze. Once in her sizable bedroom, she quickly threw her common clothes in a pile and filled a basin with water to rinse off the lingering dust and dirt. The water was shockingly cold, but it worked. Teeth chattering from the icy water, she hurriedly slipped on the steely gray dress her mother had laid over the back of a chair. She slipped on her shoes and headed back downstairs so her mother could braid her dark hair. Soon she was running out the door with a long, seven-strand braid hanging down her back that was so complicated in the making that she thought she'd never understand it.

It didn't take long to reach the wide open field where the market was usually held. Today it was cleared, except for the long feast tables along the sides piled high with food to celebrate Lithasblot, the Midsummer festival. But before they could eat, there would be dancing. Ella didn't enjoy the dances, but she wasn't about to complain. She certainly preferred it to working in the boiling hot wheat fields.

She found Eony and stood by her, watching patiently as an official climbed on the small, quickly erected stage, followed by a young man dressed in blue. The official ran through the yearly repeated speech, carefully detailing the purpose of this celebrated time and what it should mean to all their young souls. Then as the speech ended, the man smiled and gestured to his companion on the stage, introducing him as Prince Baldr Odinson, who had graciously agreed to come to the country and join the festivities. Baldr waved at the crowd with an bright smile and shuffled his feet as the official explained to his audience that they should feel honored and all treat the prince with the respect due him. He then clapped his hands and ordered them to line up, men on one side and women on the other. The gathering milled about for a few reluctant seconds before straightening out The single file line stretched across the entire field and even turned inward at the corners as young people squeezed in. They were told to move the two lines closer, and whoever was straight across would be their partner.

Ella wasn't concentrating on who she would be paired with, but instead enjoying Eony's dismay at her lack of a royal partner. In fact, Eony's partner looked rather dusty. It wasn't until she was quite close that Ella finally turned to learn who she would be dancing with. Her smile faded slightly as she came face to face with Baldr.


	4. Chapter 4

"Well...hello," Ella said with a hurried curtsy.

"Don't," Baldr replied with an awkward smile. He didn't seem to be enjoying all the attention, in fact he looked rather uncomfortable.

"Don't what?"

"Don't...bow. Or give me a title. I hate titles. They're worthless, really."

"Sorry, my lord." Ella bit her tongue and apologized. "It's a reflex, I think."

Baldr laughed a little as the dance begun. It was a simple, whirly-twirly dance that made circles in the grass and was only meant to burn some of the energy of the youth before the real festivities started.

"What's your name?" Baldr asked as soon as he faced her again.

"Eltrys."

"Eltrys...Have we met? You seem familiar."

"Yes, a very long time ago. You were running away."

"I remember. Ella. It _has_ been a long time. You gave me some advice."

"And I see you followed it."

"There are times I regret it, but yes, I listened. I suppose I should thank you."

"There's no need for that. It didn't cost me anything. But, I'll give you another pearl of wisdom."

"What might that be?"

"Smile more, I think. It makes for happier subjects."

Baldr complied, and they said no more until the dancing ceased. Ella drifted away to look for Eony, who was still wrinkling her nose at the farm boy she had danced with. Together they sought out two empty seats at the end of the feast tables. There were no more announcements, and they ate as soon as they reached their plates. All the food she recognized, as most of it had been grown and prepared in the countryside. If she thought long enough, she could likely name the farmer that provided the roast pig not far away, or the widow who had spent days laboring over her table to roll the bread laid out in baskets. But she didn't. She instead listened to Eony's chatter and indignant replies as the young man she sat next to teased her cheerfully. It was a welcome distraction from the growing ache in her feet. Ella only looked up once across the field to where Baldr was seated. It was hard to tell from such a distance, but she could have sworn he grinned at her. She quickly directed her attention back to Eony.

Night fell, and the fields slowly decreased in population, but somehow increased in noise. Those who were drunk got drunker, and small squabbles broke out among the most intoxicated of them. It was around the time Eony started to giggle at the young man who had been teasing her, a smaller jug of ale sloshing in her hands, that Ella decided to leave. She was tired, the opposite of hungry, and had a little to drink herself. It was quite dark, and halfway down the road she found herself tripping over a tree root. But instead of hitting the hard ground, she felt something soft and warm. Ella looked up into the face of the stranger who had caught her, an unknown face she didn't recognize.

"Are you Ella?" the stranger asked quietly.

She nodded sleepily into his arm. She suddenly felt exhausted, as if she had run miles.

"I was asked to give this to you, I didn't see who from."

Ella heard a crinkle of parchment as the stranger slipped a folded note into her hand.

"Thanks," she murmured. The man helped her stand and guided her along the road, a two minute walk before she closed the door of the stone house behind her with another thank you and a tired smile. She trudged up the stairs, careful not to wake her father who was undoubtedly sleeping by now, and clumsily slipped off her boots. She sat on the large bed and squinted at the note in the low light and finally made out:

_'I want to hear some more advice. Tomorrow at noon, at the gate in the fields. -Baldr'_

Ella fell asleep before she registered what she read.

* * *

Eltrys woke with a start from the sleep she hadn't realize she had been taking. She sat up and tried to dispel the image of Baldr from her mind, but he stuck stubbornly and wouldn't leave. She couldn't help hearing his voice shouting over the winter winds in her memory, five months after the Midsummer Festival.

_You could come to the palace._

She glared through the wall, at the guards, at the other prisoners, applying all her strength to push him out of her memory.

_Come back with me._

The swirling pattern on the golden wall made her nauseous. She concentrated on the sickness, but all it gained her was a pool of black vomit and a darker sense of sight. The dungeons were dim, the floor was white, and the confining wall the color of sun-lit dust. She leaned against it and felt an unpleasant tingle in her fingers. Eltrys snapped at the memory of Baldr to leave her thoughts. She vaguely saw a tall figure watching her on the other side of her prison.

_Maybe I love you, Ella._

"Shut up," ordered herself, nose pressed against the wall.

The Blackness lurked at the edge of her vision, but she refused to let it take over, despite the relief it would bring from the nauseous feeling in her stomach

_Fine._

Suddenly the memory faded, and the throbbing in her head stopped. Eltrys blinked a few times before standing to face her visitor. She didn't recognize his face, but the quiet voice he spoke with rang bells in the memory that she had just fought to bury. They were heavy bells, with a dark booming chime that resonated through her.

"What do you want?" she demanded, though there was no strength behind her words.

"I only have one request for you, Nithe. In the coming battle, do not die."

It wasn't a request, as he had said. It was an order.

"What the hell is that supposed to _mean_?" she yelled.

He stood for a moment before retreating into the shadows. Once he was gone, Ella seated herself on the floor and tried to fight sleep, but was once again defeated.

* * *

Ella couldn't help but stare at the palace gates as they rode in, despite her attempts to not appear a starry-eyed little girl from the country side. She had only seen the town up close once or twice before, by her father's side with a cart full of wheat. She caught herself staring and quickly looked away before Baldr could give her that frustratingly magnetic smile that she refused to fall in love with. Unfortunately, falling in love was the only way to prove her mother wrong. To show she was worth something.

A path was cleared for the returning prince and Ella. They had ridden alone with their horses and a pack horse. There wasn't much to carry, but Baldr had wanted to return as quickly as possible to the palace, and a third horse would help.

The streets were white with snow pushed aside by workers every morning. The winter had been exceptionally hard, but the people were not hungry, with nothing to distract them from their curiosity. Ella had raised her hood over her dark hair, which meant that the townspeople could not see her face and were left to wondering who the youngest prince's mysterious companion was. The crowd quickly thinned as they approached the palace, the guards refusing to let the common folk enter.

They dismounted in the courtyard and a young stable boy led the horses away. Ella watched as the monstrous gray horse that had replaced Haynefr grew smaller as the boy crossed the monstrous yard and turned a corner. She moved to stand next to Baldr, who was speaking with a well-dressed servant. He turned to her apologetically.

"I'm sorry, Ella, but I have to leave you for the moment. I've been summoned to the throne room. Erland will guide you to your chambers."

Ella nodded without turning to look at him. He placed a hand on her shoulder with a smile, and then he was gone. Erland bowed slightly to Ella, his wrinkled face showing what was possibly self-righteousness. He led her through doors, up stairs, around corners, through corridors, and through gardens, before arriving at a wooden door that opened into a large cavern of a room, edged with a two-story balcony that ran along the whole room. Desks and shelves populated the room, crammed with all sorts of objects.

"The library," explained Erland shortly. Ella frowned. Normally a library only held books, but this place was filled with artifacts, scrolls, jars, and other things besides books.

"This way, my lady," called Erland. Ella followed, but not with a second glance into the shadows. Someone was watching her. Someone thin, with dark hair and a book in hand. She suddenly felt out of place and hurried to follow Erland.

Her chamber was small, but that was fine, as it was more expensively decorated than anything she'd ever seen. Thick, soft, glossy brown fur lay across the bed carved of dark wood; beautifully woven rugs warming the stone floor, and a gentle golden light that lit up the tiniest details. Gold worked into wood, silver threads sparkling on tapestries, and tiny mirrors embedded into stone.

It was a loud click that jolted her from her trance. Ella turned and saw that Erland had left her. With a hesitant breath, he undid the clasp on her cloak and let it fall to the floor in a green heap. She stepped over the fabric and approached a set of thin wooden doors with light leaking in between. She stretched her leather-gloved fingers around the handles and pulled them open together to reveal a balcony. She could see into the gardens and just past the high palace walls. Evidently she was on the far western end of the Golden Palace. A thought to keep in mind. The sun was setting, a brilliant display of rich reds, golds, oranges, and purples. It lit up the metallic folds and waves of the palace walls in a thrilling way that captured Ella and held her close. She was so enthralled watching the sun sink into Asgard's oceans that the knock on the door made her jump. She cursed herself for twice becoming so distracted in one day and called out to the knocker. The reply came cheerfully, a young woman's voice.

"Lady, it's nearly time for supper, I've been sent to help you clean off the road."

* * *

At first, living in the palace was no hard thing. Servants at her bidding, huge rooms and hallways to explore, not a day of manual labor, and all the luxuries that royalty was accustomed to. It was when spring shook off the layers of snow that she became disenchanted. The sun didn't shine as brightly, the carefully prepared food tasted like ash, the days all mixed together, and there was the ever-growing feeling that she was being watched. Ella had learned that it was Prince Loki she had seen in the library, but he had been there first, so that moment didn't worry her. It was the constant idea that there were eyes boring holes into her skull, someone watching from the shadows. It gave her nightmares that woke her every night. Sometimes the nightmares released a harsh scream that burned her throat or adrenaline that etched dark lines around her eyes from lack of sleep.

She didn't tell a soul why she was so tired in the mornings or why she picked at her food, didn't think it was their business. But people noticed. Even Prince Thor knew something was wrong, when he had nothing to compare her state of being to, as he was hardly present. One night at the evening meal between his campaigns, he declared Ella sick. As much as she resisted, Thor ordered a pair of servants to escort her to the healing room, with a concerned Baldr trailing behind. Ella sat impatiently on the examining table as the healers poked, prodded, and interrogated her. Baldr stood in the corner, turning a flower he'd plucked from a bush over and over in his hands. He sidled up to Ella as soon as the healers left to analyze their findings.

"Ella...I'm not a fool. I do know you're not sick," he said quietly, staring at the limp flower. Ella avoided his gaze, though she hardly felt guilty.

"At least, not physically sick. You don't _like_ it here, do you?"

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not, Ella. What do you-"

"I said I'm fine, Baldr!" she snapped. Baldr flinched at the harshness, his brown eyes regarding her with what she thought was pity.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that," she apologized. Her voice was rather weak, with a rasp lurking on the edges. Baldr sighed.

"Goodnight, Ella," he said finally. He laid a kiss on her cheek and dropped the flower in her hands before leaving the healing room. It seemed to wither at her touch.

After a brief lecture from the head healer to eat more and get a good night's sleep, Ella made her way to her chambers, careful to take a path that wouldn't intersect with that of anyone else. Once the final wooden door was safely locked behind her, she fell onto the bed, the lack of sleep tugging at her as she drifted off, still fully clothed.

But there were still the nightmares waiting for her.

They were always varied in the details, but the general plot line was consistent. She would walk painfully slowly to the throne room, one or two figures running behind begging for her to stop, to turn around. She ignored them. A great, heaving, dark hole awaited her in the throne room, dimming the usual golden splendor of Odin's seat of power. In spoke in a booming voice, accompanied by sinister whispers in the background. She couldn't make out what it was saying, but she knew it spoke to her. It reached out, and then...nothing. Not pain, not happiness, not even vaguely neutral. No feeling to speak of. And that was what woke her up, the fear of not being afraid, of not feeling anger or joy or sadness.

It was almost sunrise when Ella sat up so quickly it made her dizzy. Her skin was sticky with sweat and her clothing rumpled. She took a deep breath to calm herself, and then surprised, inhaled again. There was a wonderful aroma floating in the air. The palace usually had such things, but this was different from the usual roses. She stood to get a better view of the room and spotted something new: a glass bowl with a flickering flame inside. As she walked closer, the scent grew stronger. Someone had gathered lavender and bergamot, only a handful, just enough to fill the room with the smell of them burning. Ella felt her eyelids droop, and after one more look at the bowl, she lay back on the fur-coated bed and drifted off to sleep.

There were no nightmares.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: This takes place when Thor, Loki, and co. are relatively young, which is why Thor doesn't have Mjolnir, if you were wondering.**

**lllllllll**

**Thor's POV**

The sun was unusually hot despite the early hour, and glinted painfully off the carefully polished armor and weapons in the training hall. Thor blinked away the sweat that stung his eyes as he swung Jarnbjorn again; the ax collided with his opponent's heavy shield, making an awful screeching sound as it slid to the side. He huffed at his opponent's laughter.

"Pick up the pace, prince!" the man shouted, narrowly sidestepping another swing. He was a large man, but light on his feet and annoyingly quick.

"How does one swing an ax quickly?" Thor grunted. The battle-ax was new to him, having been only trained before with swords and spears. He released another blow, taking a sizable chunk out of the shield, receiving a shout of approval for his efforts.

"Good! More momentum!"

The next blow lodged the ax deep into the shield, and with a vicious tug, Thor sent it spinning in to the shadows; his opponent was left defenseless and breathing hard.

"Well done," the warrior congratulated, massaging the hand the shield had been ripped from. "Take a break, sharpen the blade," he ordered before marching off to the fountains. Thor exhaled loudly and looked around the hall. There were various pairs and grounps of warriors attacking each other, dancing around in circles with flashing weapons, mostly swords, spears, battle-axes, and the occasional war hammer. To the right, Baldr leaned against a pillar next to the weapons rack, carefully running a stone down the side of his sword, grinning at some remark from an unknown woman standing next to him. Curious, Thor shouldered Jarnbjorn and sauntered towards them. Once he was closer, he discovered it was Eltrys who made his brother laugh; her expression was disdainful as she studied the sparring warriors, as if she didn't quite approve of it all. Baldr looked up at Thor's approach.

"Morning, Thor," he said cheerfully. "How does Jarnbjorn swing for you?"

"It is different, but I like the feel of it," Thor admitted. He nodded to Eltrys to acknowledge her presence. She smiled slightly in return.

"Do you fight today, Baldr?" he asked.

Baldr shook his head. "I came to find Fandral, but I have not seen him yet."

"Don't fret, prince! I've arrived!" called a new voice. Thor turned his head slightly to see Fandral making his way into the shade, sporting a cheeky grin under his pointed mustache. He stopped a few feet away and bowed dramatically.

"You've arrived _late_," Baldr said with a note of fake disapproval.

"Terribly sorry," he replied, leaning on his sword. Thor smiled to himself, knowing the boisterous warrior was not, in fact, sorry. Fandral grinned at Eltrys, causing her scornful expression to darken.

"What ever is the matter?" he asked.

"You'll blunt your sword leaning at that angle," she informed him. His eyebrows raised.

"The lady thinks she knows a thing or two about weapons, then?" Fandral mocked good-naturedly.

"A thing or two."

"Well then! There's not much to do but challenge you to a dual, seeing as you've insulted my honor," Fandral declared. Thor watched the woman's expression carefully. She didn't seem impressed.

"I'm not a child," she said quietly. There was something unsettling in her voice. Baldr looked up from his sharpening and Fandral's grin flickered.

"Of...of course not," he replied apologetically. "I-"

"But I'll fight you," she interrupted, with a mischievous smile. Fandral seemed relieved as the metaphorical cloud moved on and the mood lightened again. Eltrys turned to the weapon rack and ran her fingertips over a few handles before carefully drawing out a lighter made sword. It was a smaller weapon, but Thor guess it could be moved quickly with little effort. Good for making hundreds of small wounds that would form the equivalent of one large fatal blow.

"Can you fight properly with those garments?" Thor asked, gesturing to her dark green dress. It was loose enough to not restrict movement, but it would easy to trip over.

"Can you see straight with that ego?"

Fandral's giggle was very manly.

Thor smiled widely. He approved of Baldr's choice in Eltrys. The woman had a backbone, to be sure, a good but rare quality, and a similar humor to Loki, though not as dark.

Eltrys followed Fandral to a clear area about ten feet away at the edge of the pillar's shadow where they stopped and faced each other. Fandral made the first move, a quick lunge before pulling away and stepping to the side. Eltrys retaliated with a strange movement that Thor hadn't seen in a sword fight before. As the dual progressed, he came to realize that though her attacks were incredibly effective, she had no proper technique, and relied on skill alone. Her choices of movement were only slightly more refined than someone fighting with a fireplace poker. But yet she held her own against the trained Fandral.

Both were breathing heavily when their weapons locked; the sun had moved enough that they were in its rays now, and there was visible sweat on Fandral's forehead. They struggled for a nearly half a minute to overpower each other, but they were at an impasse. As if at an unspoken agreement, they both lowered their swords. The fight was over.

Fandral bowed with his typical dramatic flair. "You are a worthy opponent! But I'm afraid I do not know your name."

"Eltrys."

Fandral took her hand and kissed it chivalrously. "Eltrys? Your name sounds familiar, but I... Oh! Eltrys! You are Baldr's lady, then?"

She responded with a smile. "Now if you excuse me, I have some business with that very man," he continued. Baldr stood and with a nod to Eltrys and his brother, walked with Fandral around the corner and out of sight.


	6. Chapter 6

The library was always confusing. It wasn't even strictly a library; more like a very large archive. There were books, old and new, scrolls stacked and sorted, artifacts displayed on the shelves, and odd jars of odder substances propping up books. Cozy not being a trait of Asgardian architecture, the room was huge and cavernous, the shelves towering to hard-to-see heights with balconies to access them. There were chairs, but they were more like thrones in appearance than comfortable reading places. In some ways it was a wonder, in others it was a pain. All the interesting objects tended to be out of reach.

The particular tome Ella wanted was just beyond her arm's length. It stuck out from the wooden shelf tauntingly, but her fingers could barely graze the binding's loose threads, even if she stood on a chair. She was highly considering stealing one of the Einherjar's spears to knock it down when a burst of golden light knocked the book into her hands. In her surprise, she took a half step backwards and nearly fell off the arm of the golden chair she'd been standing on.

"I didn't get that book down just for you to fall off a chair and kill yourself," said a voice. She steadied herself before replying.

"If you truly believe that the floor can defeat me, you'd best go back to your lessons, Loki." She turned to the dark-haired prince, clutching the book. He laughed a little.

"What's so special about this book?"

"I don't know yet. Could be incredibly uninteresting. I just liked the way it looked."

"You are judging a book by its cover?"

"Let's be honest, prince. Everyone judges a book by its cover."

"Possibly. Let's see it then."

Ella stepped down from the throne-like chair and placed it into Loki's hands. It was more square than rectangular, and had a dark blue fabric worked in gold protecting its pages. He ran his fingertips over it once before flipping it open. He skimmed a few of the hand-trimmed pages before looking back up at her through his eyebrows.

"Can you read Asgardian?" he asked with a small smile.

"Of course I can read Asgardian," Ella retorted.

"I don't mean the Allspeak, Eltrys. This book is written in the ancient language, from before our ancestors discovered the stars."

"Oh. Yes, I can read the runes. Not at any great speed, but I understand them."

"Well, then you know more than most country folk, it seems," said Loki. His voice sounded casual, but from the look in his eyes she knew he wanted a reaction. Ella wasn't going to give him any such thing.

"The book, what is in it?"

He closed it and put it back into her hands. "The translation of nightmares. A good thing for you to have."

She froze and avoided his eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"If you're going to live in a court, Eltrys, you will need to be better at lying," Loki remarked. "Do you think I don't ever speak to my younger brother? Baldr is right, you are in perfect health. There's something else you're losing sleep over."

"What makes you think I have nightmares?"

"Don't forget that I spend a lot of time in this library, and you sleep just on the other side of that wall. I can _hear_ you."

Ella's eyes narrowed as she met his gaze. "Are you saying you've heard me scream in the middle of the night multiple times and never once thought I was in any danger?"

"I've had my share of bad dreams. I know what that kind of fear sounds like. So tell me. What haunts you?"

She turned away and made herself comfortable in one of the golden chairs, the book in her lap. "It doesn't matter," she said, opening the pages, "They've stopped."

Ella was surprised when he didn't argue. He didn't seem like one to take such a short answer. The prince left the room.

All three princes were absent from the palace for nearly four months on a long campaign beyond Yggdrasil. Baldr returned once to report, but the visit was very brief and she saw nothing of him. Thor and Loki she did not see until the ceremonial declaration of Thor as heir to the throne a few weeks after their return. The event was pure tradition, as there was no doubt in anyone's mind Thor would be king of Asgard after Odin, but such things had to be done.

It was a public event, held outside the palace gates in the blazing hot summer sun. Loki stood near Ella, and she in no way envied his armor and cloak. He tossed a small ball of light between his hands that stirred a small breath of wind that occasionally reached Ella's warm skin with its cool magic. The little bit of sorcery was the only thing that kept Ella from fleeing the unrelenting sun.

The gathering of people hushed as Odin stood, ready to make a grand speech. But his words were drowned out by a sudden snap, an inward rush of air, and what sounded exactly like a rip in the fabric of space.

The forceful gust of cold was so incredibly painful as it rushed over Ella's body. She turned towards the source- a scar in the world behind her, a portal to an icy wasteland. She wanted to stare into its bleakness, but the shout of her name and Loki wrenching her arm to the side pulled her away from the doorway. She fell onto the prince, and as they went down, a searing cold pain shot across her side, and by his cry, she knew Loki felt the same blade. Ella rolled onto her back and looked straight up into the face of her attacker. It was nothing like an Aesir, or any creature she'd ever seen. It was tall, painfully thin, with no face. Its skin consisted of what looked like cracked black stone with beautiful blue light shimmering like lava from behind the rough surface. As it leaned over Ella and Loki, it raised its weapon, a scythe of the same material as itself, over their bodies. Blood dripped from it, and the bright sun burned its silhouette forever into Ella's mind.

Four things happened at once:

A warm red drop fell off the scythe onto Ella's lip.

The battle cry of the Einherjar echoed through the courtyard as they ran to their prince's defense.

Loki tightened his grip around Ella's arm.

A flash of light consumed them like white fire and they vanished from the Golden Realm.


	7. Chapter 7

Ella shrieked as she and Loki fell several feet through the air and landed on a mound of freezing snow. The biting cold wind shocked all the air from her lungs, and she struggled to breathe. Beside her, Loki rolled to his feet and spun in a slow circle, taking in their surroundings.

"Jotunheim!" he shouted over the arctic wind. His breath was barely warm enough to create the tiniest cloud. Ella sat up.

"J-jotun-he-he-heim?" she managed through the cold. Loki looked down at her, eyebrow cocked.

"You mustn't stutter so. It's not so freezing as to...oh." He unhooked his dark green cape and draped it over her unceremoniously. Ella tried to push it away, despite how much she craved that warmth.

"No...I don't n-need it."

"I have full armor to keep me warm, Eltrys," Loki scoffed. "You, however, wear only a summer gown meant for Asgard's sun."

Ella accepted the cape with a huff against the wind and wrapped it around herself. Loki pulled her to her feet and steadied her on the snow drift.

"Do you know what that creature was? And why are we on Jotunheim? Why us? And that portal..." Ella trailed off.

"I have the answers to none of those questions," admitted Loki. "But I suggest we find a way out. We won't last long in this wasteland."

"The Bifrost?" Ella suggested.

"No. If Heimdall could see us, warriors would already be here. Perhaps if we were to speak to Laufey..."

"Frost giants help two lost Aesir? I think the chances are very slim," she retorted.

"True, true. Perhaps then we better find shelter, somewhere warm while I find a way out. There seem to be caves of some sort over there." Loki pointed through the blizzard to a distant smudge of dark blue. Ella didn't think to question how he thought they were caves, not only lumps of ice. He slid down the pile of snow they stood on and beckoned for her to follow.

She took a few steps but her vision began to swim; black splotches lurked at the edge of her sight, threatening to take over, until suddenly they did. The world flickered between the starch white and blue landscape to woozy black. Her feet faltered and she fell and rolled across the snow. Loki turned, frowning, though seeming unconcerned.

"You are not usually this clumsy," he commented as he bent to help her up. He pulled his fingers away as he noticed a bright red stain on the blindingly white snow. "You're bleeding," he said dryly.

Ella rolled onto her knees, pressing at the injury across her ribs, groaning with more annoyance than pain as her vision steadied. The scythe had left an odd wound that traveled from her top right rib to her left hip. It bled profusely, but had a cycle of pain that swung no farther than irritating tingling and extreme discomfort.

"I'm fine," she assured the dark haired prince. He looked skeptical, but made no remark to that effect.

"But didn't the creature also attack you?" she asked.

"My armor took most of the blow it seems. A slight bruise, nothing more."

Ella resisted the urge to roll her eyes and instead channeled that energy into standing again.

The caves were a lot closer than they had looked, and the two Asgardians reached them in what Ella supposed was about an hour, though it was hard to tell with the blizzard obscuring the sun. Sculptures of pure ice formed graceful arches and long, shining tunnels that were pockmarked with icicles and little piles of dusty snow. They took refuge in one of these tunnels, and once the wind was blocked out, there was instant warmth. Ella scraped snow off a flat-looking rock and sat; meanwhile Loki was toying with a wisp of light in his hands.

"What are you doing?" Ella asked as she leaned back against the tunnel wall. Loki didn't look up, but instead turned towards her.

"Figuring out where we are," he explained. The magic in his hands was a rotating landscape that Ella assumed was the one they currently occupied. Small bolts of energy crisscrossed over the glowing mountains and ice before coming together to form a rune that floated in front of Loki's face. He closed his hand into a fist and the light vanished.

"Well, he said, dusting snow off his armor, "I doubt the Frost Giants are involved. We're hundreds of leagues from their main civilization."

"Great. Well, I hope that whoever brought us here does something about it soon. I don't look forward to being stranded here for a month," Ella replied. Her voice was tired and broken by the cold.

Loki grinned, a gesture Ella returned with a frown and wrinkle of the nose. The dark-haired prince set to building a fire, out of magic, Ella supposed, but she was too exhausted to watch how he accomplished this. All she knew was that there was suddenly bright flames that were lulling her, pulling her eyelashes down toward her cheeks and into sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

The cloud wrapped itself around them, a mass of utter void plagued with streaks of colored lightning. It ripped something from them, until she felt nothing but an intense hunger, a need for the something that had been robbed from her, but her cry was answered with the omnipresent whispers of the darkness. It was accompanied with a cold that seemed to search for every crevice and every bone that it could freeze, until she had no warmth and only hunger.

When Ella shot out of the nightmare, she would have made the usual scream of terror, but the coldness of the Jotunn air prevented anything but a choked gasp.

"I see your nightmares have returned," remarked Loki. Ella coughed in response and sat next to Loki where he tended a small sorcerous fire.

"Do you think it has anything to do with being here?" she asked, warming her hands on the fire. Loki didn't reply, so she hastily added, "Unlikely, though. It's probably just a coincidence."

Loki smiled as he held an icicle over the fire, watching it melt. "On the contrary, I think that's exactly why. Lavender and bergamot aren't things to be found on Jotunheim."

Ella froze with shock, rather than cold before slowly turning to face the prince. "That was you? Leaving the fires in my room to make me sleep? Why?"

"I wanted to make use of the library late at night in peace," he replied. Ella's eyes narrowed suspiciously. He raised a brow in return. "You don't believe me?"

"No. Not really. That's a lot of work for silence in such a huge palace."

She noticed the tiny twinkle of mischief in his eyes as he spoke. "Really, Eltrys. I have no other motive. Now I suggest we find a way out of here, since the storm has passed."

Ella looked out the tunnel to see that he spoke truth. The sky was dark and starless, but there was no wind and flurrying snow.

"Do you have a plan, Loki?" she asked, not taking her eyes from the entrance to the tunnel.

"Yes...I don't suppose you know anything of magic, do you?" He was rummaging in his pockets as he said this, growing increasingly frustrated.

She turned back to him. "Not much, just the general theory. But I don't know how to use it, if that's what you're asking."

Loki shook his head. "That's fine. I'll make do. Where is...ha!"

He pulled a small knife from his boot and inspected the edge. With a satisfied grunt, he held out his hand to Ella.

"Give me your hand."

"What? Why?" Ella stared warily at the dagger.

"I'm going to need to use your energy to fuel the spell I'm going to cast, and it's easier to do that if we have direct blood contact," he explained, his expectant hand waiting. Ella pulled her lips back in a frown, but gave her cold hand to Loki, albeit hesitantly, and he took it by the wrist. He pulled the blade gently across her hand, and to his confusion, there was no effect. He pulled her hand closer, to see it better by the light of the fire.

"You have extraordinarily tough skin," he remarked, running his fingertips over her palm. Her own fingers twitched at the feeling. Loki appeared to hold back a laugh.

"From working on my father's farm, I suppose," Ella tried to explain. Loki didn't look convinced, but he put the knife to her skin once more, a little harder, and this time coaxed a trail of blood. He released her wrist and raised an eyebrow.

"How's your wound? From when we arrived?"

"Oh..uh, well," Ella grimaced, "I'd forgotten about it until you mentioned it. It twinges, nothing more."

"Hmm."

"Truthfully!" She held herself back from cuffing Loki. He was, after all, the prince, and even if she was betrothed to his brother it would be out of line. Both his brows went up this time, and his lips parted in mockery as he nodded.

"Of course. I would never doubt you."

"Now come, I'd like to leave."

Outside the tunnel there was still a slight breeze, enough to stir Ella's dress and the edges of the green cape draped over her shoulders. But not enough to make her shiver. With a swift motion that seemed morbidly well-practiced, Loki slit his own palm and took Ella's bleeding hand in his own. His blood was unexpectedly cold against hers and she flinched at the touch. Loki ignored her, intent on his spell. His pale fingers wove something intricate in the air that Ella couldn't see, until suddenly the dim light reflected off a tiny gossamer thread that Loki spun from the air. She could see the pattern now, complicated and full of knots. He held it by one finger and shook it out, so it formed a long netted tube. He set it in the snow and knelt, still grasping Ella's hand.

"That is like no magic I've seen," she said, peering at the glowing thread.

"It's war magic," he explained, "That's why I needed you; I can't charge the spell with my strength alone. Usually during a battle a prisoner would provide the energy, but that's not an option at the moment." He looked up at her. "You might want to sit."

Ella obeyed and knelt on the powdery snow. Loki took a firm hold on his creation and it began to grow brighter. Ella felt at first a prickle in her arm, nothing unbearable, until it spread over her body with a sudden rush. She could feel her energy, and more importantly, her heat, sapping away into Loki's fingers as the magic grew warmer and brighter, white hot and painful to look at. Ella shivered without her internal heat, and felt an ache as her insides began to freeze. Her vision darkened at the edges and her wound twinged, until at last Loki released her and clamped his hands over the now pulsing light. Ella supported herself with one and hand and held the other, bloodied one, to her slow-beating heart. Her skin was blue with cold, and her breath no longer fogged the air, but she was at least still conscious.

When Loki removed his grip on the light, a form that looked akin to a blackbird shot out and flapped in front of his face. He grabbed his knife and swiftly carved the rune from his magic map into the bird's chest. With an ear-piercing shriek, it shot into the sky like a beam of pure, unadulterated starlight and was gone. The net that had held it turned a sour black and crumbled into ash. Loki, breathing hard and shuddering, turned to Ella.

"Sorry about that," he apologized, "I took much more energy than needed, but I wanted to be sure the message would reach my father. Are you still functioning?"

Ella waved his question away and laid back in the snow. "I'll live," she assured him, "As soon as I can get something to eat."

"Well," said Loki, leaning back against a pillar of ice, "If my magic doesn't fail, which it won't, Odin's guards will be here before much longer, and you'll be back in Baldr's arms!"

"Hmm," Ella mumbled. For a moment, Loki started at her in silence before commenting.

"You-" he broke off.

"What?" Ella sat up.

"Nevermind."

"Loki."

"It's of no-"

"Loki! Stop talking and look! There's something coming!" She pointed into the hazy distance and Loki's eye followed. Dark figures approached over the horizon.

"Frost Giants?" he suggested.

"No," Ella countered, "They seem too small."

"Have you even even seen a Frost Giant, Eltrys?"

"No, have you?"

"Well...no," Loki admitted.

Then the light caught just right on the unknown creatures so that Ella saw a spark of brilliant blue.

"Loki, I think it's the creatures that brought us here," she announced, standing and ignoring the nausea the motion brought.

"You just might be right. By Buri, they're moving fast." He looked into the sky. "Any time now, Father," Loki muttered. The figures were closer now, and Ella's suspicions confirmed. The beautifully terrifying beasts loped across the barren landscape on their long legs, cutting the distance at an alarming rate. With a blink, it seemed they had halved the remaining space. They carried spears alight with colorless fire; close enough now for Ella to make out the cracks in their stony skin.

"Loki, we can't stay here!" she shouted at the prince.

"If we leave, the spell will be useless!" he returned. "You can stand behind me if it makes you feel any better!"

She held her ground, though she regretted the choice as one of the creatures hurtled its spear towards her.

"Eltrys, get down!" bellowed Loki. But there was no need. With a scream as it pierced through worlds, the Bifrost's colorful light exploded around them. An indistinguishable figure stepped in front of Ella, and the spear produced a sharp clang as it collided with a shield. A soft hand wrapped around Ella's wrist, and the Bifrost pulled them from Jotunheim.

She felt dizzy as they landed in Heimdall's Observatory, though perhaps that was an after affect of Loki's spell. Ella blinked to let her eyes adjust and saw that Thor and the Lady Sif and been their rescuers. Sif's shield smoked from where the flaming spear had driven into it. Thor turned to face Ella and his brother.

"Are either of you harmed?" he asked in his altogether overly-enthusiastic, booming voice. Before Ella could object, Loki stepped forward.

"Eltrys was wounded by one of the creatures. I myself need naught but a good meal."

Ella glared at him threateningly, to which Loki returned a small smirk.

"I'm fine," she challenged.

"The Hel you are," interjected Sif. "What you are is bloody."

Ella remembered her hand and looked down to see her arm and dress splattered in dried blood, a result of the Bifrost's speed.

"It's Loki's blood," she argued. Only a partial lie, she reasoned. Thor picked up on the game.

"Oh? Then perhaps you should both visit the healers," he suggested, a badly-concealed smile crossing his face. Loki's eyes narrowed.

"That won't be necessary, brother. Perhaps we should-"

"Ella!" a voice interrupted. She looked to the entrance of the Observatory to see Balder sliding off his horse. He wrapped her in a tight embrace, and despite herself, she felt relieved as she inhaled his warm smell. She looked up to see Loki regarding her with an unreadable expression.

"I'm so glad you've returned," he whispered. "Where did the portal lead, anyways?"

"Jotunheim," Ella replied softly.

"Jotunheim?" Baldr turned to his older brothers. "Does Father know?"

"He does," replied Thor, "But perhaps it is best Loki and Eltrys speak to him before tending to any other matters."

"Yes," Sif agreed, "he seemed eager to know if the Frost Giants were involved in this attack."

"The Jotunns had nothing to do with the matter, as far as I can tell," Loki said.

"Fine, tell that to the All-Father, not to me," prodded Sif. "There is a horse outside for you both."


	9. Chapter 9

"What did my father say?"

Baldr paced slowly around the small garden that annexed his room. Ella leaned against pillows set on a stone bench, drowsy in the warm summer air. Potted plants brushed against her bare feet as she explained Odin's remarks to the rhythm of the last bees of the day.

"He said an envoy would be sent to Laufey's court to make an inquiry, despite our assurances that the Frost Giants were not involved. He also ordered a handful of scholars to research the things that created the portal in the first place. Odin then bid me leave and continued to conspire with your brother in foreboding whispers."

Baldr laughed at her tone and sat on the swept cobblestones, leaning against the bench, resting against the bronze folds of her dress. She silently instructed her hand to gently slide through Baldr's hair and run along the tips of his ears. Even so late, she must keep up the pretense of loving him. It was a necessary thing.

"The thing that still troubles me is that I do not understand why these creatures went after you. No offense intended, but truthfully, I wouldn't think you a target. As of yet, you have no political power, and I don't think you have enemies, do you?" Baldr relayed softly.

"There is a goldsmith in the lower town that can't stand the sight of me."

"Ah, perhaps. But I doubt this goldsmith has the ability to summon such beasts."

"Nor the wit," Ella replied with a smile. "No, I think Loki was the more likely target."

Baldr hummed in response. "Well, what matters is that you're here now."

"Yes," Ella murmured. Baldr turned at the sour note in her voice. She felt panic rising internally as she realized this was an exact repeat of her conversation with Loki.

"You really have played me like a fool, Eltrys," he said quietly. The hard edge to his words was completely foreign to Ella, as was the steely glint in his eyes. It shocked her into silence for a heartbeat of a moment.

"What?" she whispered, completely thrown off by his harshness. She sat up straight and looked down at him, fighting to control her expression. Suddenly he grinned.

"Only a jest, Ella," he assured her. But she saw the dying light in his eyes and knew it was a lie. He pushed himself onto the stone bench.

"Though, I'm curious," he said, brushing leaves from the bench. "What did you think I spoke of?"

"I was thinking something along the lines of a mass murdering assassin," she lied, exaggerating a wave of her hands. Baldr laughed and put one arm over her shoulder.

"You? Forgive me Ella, but though I know your skill with a blade, I cannot imagine you a murderer."

"Well, that's good, I suppose."

With the heavy, but sweet, scent of the garden flowers and the soothing sound of Baldr's laugh, it wasn't long before Ella's eyes grew heavy with sleep. She leaned against him, blinking slowly in the now-dim light. Baldr turned towards her.

"You should rest. I can't imagine you got much sleep on Jotunheim."

"No, I didn't. But my bed is so far, I'll just fall asleep on this bench here."

"I think I'm moralally obligated to not let you do that. Just sleep in my bed. There's plenty of cozy chairs I can make use of."

"I'm too tired to argue. Thank you, Baldr."

"Not a problem," he said. He kissed her, and to her surprise, she felt no reluctance in herself when she kissed him back. He stood, and held his hand out to help her up.

"I must speak with my mother, but make yourself comfortable."

He left, and the garden felt cold.

The air was thick with night when Ella woke. She found herself in Baldr's bed. He still slept silently on the wide chair to the side. She felt so awake, but still so very asleep. A waking dream. Ella stood, and the world was crooked. The entire ground felt like it was at an angle. Disoriented, she misplaced a foot and fell against the bedpost. Baldr stirred and blinked sleepily.

"Ella?" he murmured. She brushed her fingertips against his brown hair and whispered in return.

"Return to your sleep. There's something I need to do."

"What is it?"

"I'm not sure yet," she admitted. She could see the door through a cold haze and took a few steps towards it, impeded by the twisted angle she perceived the room to have. Baldr sat up quickly and caught up to her, concerned.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. I'm fairly certain this is a dream, anyway."

"What? Ella...this isn't a dream. Why would you say that?"

"It's happened before. Every night for a long time. Though it's never been this clear...But don't fret, Baldr. Go back to sleep. I'll wake in a few hours, screaming, but I'll be fine."

"Ella..."

She kissed his cheek and left the room. Baldr sighed and followed, a few steps behind.

Something led her through the palace. Not a force, but a desire. There was something she wanted, maybe just around the next corner. The dully gleaming hallways were illuminated harshly by the moon, which failed to burn away the mist that bit at their heels. Ella's dizzy trance led them past an alcove in which floated a witchlight. Loki peeked his head from around the corner and directed his confused glance to his brother. Baldr grabbed Loki's wrist and dragged him along. The witchlight trailed him as Ella's fast-paced walk broke into a run.

"Baldr, what's going on?" Loki asked, his green eyes flicking from Ella to Baldr and back as they ran.

"I'm not sure. Ella is under the impression that she is dreaming. She said there was something she had to do."

Loki swore.

"Brother, do you know something?" Baldr hissed.

"I didn't expect Eltrys' nightmares to project into the waking world. I knew I detected a magical presence in the palace," he huffed as Ella turned a sharp corner.

"Are you saying Ella has magic?"

"No, I'm saying something is in the palace."

"Something like that?"

Baldr pointed as they slid into the throne room.

"Yes. Something like that."

A massive cloud of blackness floated above Odin's throne. No, not a cloud. A being. It seemed to speak; and though it was but a whisper, the three gods felt its voice in their bones. An ancient, wicked language. Ella approached it, slowly now, staring at it with enchanted glee. She paid no heed to Baldr's cries to stop, to turn around, to listen to him, please, Ella.

Loki hushed his brother, realizing the uselessness and advising him to save his breath.

A finger of black ink trailed down to Ella's outstretched hand. It wrapped around her forearm like a coil and slowly drifted upward to her ice blue eyes. It was a gentle touch, dealing out no harm until it seemed to stare into her soul, level with her own gaze

It was then it attacked her.

With a rush of air that made a noise like negative sound, the dark cloud streamed into Ella's eyes faster than Thor's swiftest lightning. Loki was no longer able to hold Baldr back, and the youngest prince rushed forward and pushed her to the ground. The blackness reeled backwards, as if shocked at his temerity.

Ella heard her heart pounding in her ears, muffling Baldr's desperation. Though even louder was Loki's silence. Ella memorized that sound and sealed it within her mind.

The realm was crooked again as she felt her soul dying inside. Asgard straightened its spine when the Blackness rushed Baldr. With a speed even greater than it had before, it absorbed the life from Baldr's eyes, growing steadily larger in its sinister presence. When it retreated, the soft brown of his gaze was glazed over with darkness. He stared blindly into the distance for but a moment before falling to the floor.

Ella could not manage a scream before the Blackness resumed its attack on her. Though unlike with Baldr, it did not grow, but shrank. She felt its coldness in the depths of her soul and she, too fell backwards, gazing out onto the swift pastel sunrise as the world's colors died away into gray.

She heard the sound of her own harsh breathing and Loki's retreating footsteps.

She felt the rhythm of the Einherjar's heavy boots and Thor's bare feet as they burst into the throne room.

She glimpsed the first caress of the rosy sunlight as it mingled with the bronze floor before it, too, was gray.

She smelled the queen's soothing perfume as Frigga's cries for her son lulled Eltrys to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

It was the most painful thing she'd ever experienced, like being eaten alive by rabid wolves that howled in her ears. The world around her felt so soft in comparison to her insides when she sat up straight. Her cry caught in her throat and she couldn't breathe. It felt like dying. She fell onto her back once more and wrapped her arms around her head, as if to protect herself from an unseen attacker. But then her hands were excruciatingly cold, and she tried desperately to warm them in the white blankets around her, but to no avail. The savage sensation was everywhere, except the wound on her ribs, which was completely numb. Without warning, the cold and the pain came to an end, and she sat up once again and took a few breaths in relief, before it was replaced by an unbearable prickling in her fingers, as if thousands of tiny ghosts paraded around her hands. She bloodied herself trying to rub away the dancing, and with her panic, the pain returned. She put her hands to her head and yelled. It was frustration, not fear, however, that brought the cry to her lips. It dissolved into sobbing, and she clenched her teeth against the ghosts and the wolves.

She felt someone by her side, calling out to her. She recognized the soft brown robes of the Healers, and forced her heart to mitigate its thundering beat. The howling quieted, and the ghosts slowed their steps. A healer took Ella's bloody hand in her own soft white one and held it loosely. The touch anchored her in reality and her senses solidified. The room came into focus and she blinked in the stark cleanliness of the healing rooms.

"How do you feel?" the healer prompted, none too gently. Ella ignored her and her companion, a younger man, and looked past them into the surrounding beds. They were empty.

"Where is Baldr?" she demanded. The healer turned to her companion.

"Go find Thor, tell him the Lady Eltrys is awake," she said softly. The man nodded and took off. Ella felt impatience rising in her.

"Where is Baldr?" she repeated forcefully. The woman only shook her head and moved off to continue her rounds. Ella stood and took a few quick steps after the woman, forgetting her own pain. She grabbed the healer by the shoulder and turned her around.

"Answer the question," she said through clenched teeth.

"Remove your hand and return to your bed," the healer said fiercely. When Ella made no move, she wrenched Ella's grip from her shoulders and forced her onto the soft white bed. Ella felt the static of magic between the healer's fingers as she felt herself immobilized. She looked down to see thin braided ropes prickling with green flares of magic binding her hands to the wood of the bed. She tugged sharply at the ropes, but somehow her strength felt sucked away by the thin fibers. She glared up at the healer. Her scathing comment was cut off by Thor's arrival.

"Eltrys!" he thundered. His tone was harsh, but not hating, like the healer's had been.

"Thor! What is going on?" Ella called out. "This...woman...refuses to speak of Baldr."

The son of Odin stopped a few steps from the bed and studied the healer for seconds before commanding her. "Gilde, please return to your duties," he said. She scowled, but obeyed. Thor turned to Ella.

"Eltrys, what happened?" he demanded.

"Where is Baldr?" she chimed. The undertone of glee surprised her.

"Tell me of the events in the throne room, and I will tell you of my brother," Thor countered. Ella considered this and explained.

"I do not recall everything that happened so clearly. I felt a force driving me towards the throne room, compelling me as if there was something just around the corner. It felt like a dream. I thought it was a dream, like so many nightmares I've had before. I remember Baldr running after me, as well as Loki. When-" she broke off, seeing the suspicion in his face. "What's wrong?" she asked. Thor shook his head and motioned for her to continue.

"When we reached the throne room, there was something dark that seemed to destroy all the golden light in the room. I can't describe it. It was horrifying, but compelling. I can't recall much else, except..." Ella trailed off.

"Except what?" he prodded. She whispered something to herself that she didn't understand the meaning of, and then looked straight at his blue eyes.

"Baldr ran to me, and I hit the floor. I saw the sunrise turn to ash. And...that's all."

Thor was silent for a time, crossing his arms and tapping his finger against his bracers. He stared at her intensely, and her gaze almost faltered before he spoke.

"Baldr has not stirred. The healers believe that he may not wake. Ever."

"Baldr is...dead?"

"No, only asleep. His heart beats, and he breathes, but he does not respond to anything the healers have tried. He will not die, but he will not leave the realm of dreams, either."

"I want to see him." She stood, the motion made awkward by her bound wrists.

Thor shook his head. "I would advise against it. My mother is with Baldr."

"So?"

"I suppose there's no good way to say this. Much of the realm, my mother included, suspect you for purposely causing Baldr's...condition."

"What? That's insane! I had no control over myself or Baldr! Blame the- the Blackness that attacked him, not me!" she protested. Thor held a soothing hand to her shoulder.

"Eltrys, I do not believe the accusation. But I was not present at the event, so I can say nothing."

"Loki can. He was there! He followed Baldr and I into the throne room. Ask him!"

"Loki has claimed he was not involved. He said that he was in the library all night."

"He's lying! Loki was in the throne room! He-" she stopped, and drew a breath before continuing more slowly. "He made no move to stop me. I remember that, clear as glass."

Thor looked pained. "You did not have full control of your mind. Perhaps you imagined his presence in your delirium."

"No. I could not have imagined that."

He sighed. "I will speak with him. But do not expect much. In the mean time, you should rest. I will send someone to escort you to your chambers; I do not think you have the strength on your own."

Ella nodded. She remembered one more thing as he neared the door. "Thor!" she called.

"Yes?"

"You said much of the realm thinks I hurt Baldr. How long have I been asleep?"

Thor thought for a moment before answering. "There have been fifteen mornings since the attack."

"Fifteen days..." she whispered. "Thank you."

Thor's heavy footsteps faded. Ella held back the rising urge to scream into her hands.

* * *

Ella knelt on the carved floor of her bedroom, searching through a chest for a cowl to warm her in the dying sunlight. She finally pulled it from the bottom, and swore as it snagged on a splinter and tore. With a sigh, she fingered the fraying edges of the rip. It would have to be mended. A swish of fabric broke through her thoughts. Without looking up, Ella addressed Frigga.

"I suppose you're here to rid yourself of me."

"No."

"No? You think I'm a murderer. All of Asgard thinks so."

"Yes, but that is not why I'm here. I thought you should know that I promised Baldr something. He made me swear that there would always be a place in the palace for you, that no matter what happens, you will always have refuge here."

"He...when?"

"He came to me the day he realized you never loved him, after you returned from Jotunheim. He told me that he had made his decision, and he would always love you, no matter how long your lies continued."

Ella stared at the floor beneath her in shock. A guilt grew in her throat and she tightened her hands around the torn cloth.

"Why would he do that? No one is that selfless."

"I believe he realized the same thing I did. You care for him more than you think. You gave up any dream you might have had, any life with your family, to come here, because it would make him happy, even if you were never content. I think you knew you had nothing to gain."

"That's not why I came."

"But it is why you stayed."

There was a moment of silence.

"Why are you saying this? I thought you hated me."

Frigga's face grew dark, a little angry, and very much disgusted. "Do not take me for a fool who lets emotion cloud judgement, Eltrys. I believe that there is very little good in you, and that it would take a lot to draw it out. Mark my words, this palace may be a refuge to you, but it cannot be a home. I will never accept you as one of my family."

In a sudden stroke of bitterness, Eltrys scowled up at the queen. "I do not expect or want you to," she said fiercely. "I hope we can come to an understanding that while you do not welcome me, I also will not savor any time spent in this cavern of a palace."

Eltrys was surprised at Frigga's cool reaction. Centuries of diplomatic exploits had taught her well.

"Mend that cowl, Eltrys. I will not have any guest, welcomed or not, dressed like a beggar-child in my home."

Frigga left her kneeling on the bronze floor, still seething in her unexpected anger.


	11. Chapter 11

**Thor's POV**

Thor sat at a heavy wooden table, his mug of ale neglected and nothing but silence passing between Fandral, Volstagg, and Sif. Baldr's usual chair was painfully empty. They'd slowly over the hour gathered around the table, all just knowing where to be. When the silence had stretched long enough, Thor finally mustered up something to say, but before the words came out, there was a harsh cry.

Sif was the first to stand, followed quickly by the rest, charging down the hall with weapons ready. The library was the location, and Eltrys was the source. A guard that had been nearby was watching, his eyes wide and panicked. The woman was standing in front of a mirror, her back to the door.

"What happened?" demanded Sif, relaxing the grip on her sword. Eltrys turned to face them, her hand covering her mouth and wet cheeks proof of her hysterics, but that wasn't what caught Thor's attention. It was her eyes.

Blacker than deepest dungeon, and emptier than the void. It was the same darkness that had surrounded Baldr's unconscious body when he was found.

"By Buri..." Thor breathed.

Eltrys cried out in a language untranslatable even by the All-Speak. The thick liquid escaped through the gaps between her fingers, leaving a messy hand print as she fell against one of the library chairs.

"What do we do?" Fandral asked no one in particular. Thor's eyes searched the room until his gaze fell upon the confused Einherjar guard that was standing against the wall.

"Guard, take her to the healing rooms, as fast as possible."

The man leaned his spear against the wall and picked Eltrys up carefully, wary of the evil looking fluid that was staining her skin and clothing.

"What do I tell them, my lord?"

Thor shook his head. "I do not know. Just hurry."

There was a few moments of uneasy silence before Sif was brave enough to break it.

"What is happening to Asgard?" she asked in a hushed tone. "This...this Blackness. Will it stop at Baldr and Eltrys? Or will we wake up one dark morning to find it has spread over all Asgard? Or Yggdrasil?"

"There is no way to tell. Not even the wisest scholars have knowledge of the Blackness. Not even my father," Thor confessed. "But since we know nothing, I do not wish to waste energy on worry, and I advise you to do the same, Sif."

"I do not mean to seem...insensitive," Volstagg began, "But perhaps it would be safer for everyone if Eltrys was somewhere else? Suppose this sickness spread through the hierchy? What if Odin was to fall prey?"

"I will not send Eltrys away. Baldr asked us to protect her, and even though she never married my brother, I still consider her a sister. She will stay until she wants to leave."

Volstagg nodded and stepped back. Thor saw the warrior's grim faces and sparked a smile on his own.

"My friends, do not despair. We are Aesir! We will defeat this Blackness and have a grand feast afterwards!" he declared. Their frowns lifted momentarily, and an amused huff came from Volstagg's beard. But the small ray of light died with Thor's sigh.

"I am going to the Healing Rooms."

Eltrys was lying on a stone slab when Thor found her, awake, but shivering with the black inky substance that coated her eyes. Several healers milled around, checking glowing instruments and opening panels and closing them with a frustrated sigh. Thor approached Eir, the Head Healer.

"How does she fare?" he asked, his voice much lower than his usual boom. Eir shook her head and examined a string of light that projected from the floor.

"Something is interfering with the Soul Forge," she explained. "Every time I switch it on and the image begins to form, the lights scatter and die, as if some unseen hand is brushing them aside."

"Is there an adequate power source?" Thor suggested.

"That is not the problem. Someone, or something, is deliberately hindering the process."

She glanced pointedly at Eltrys. Thor's brow furrowed.

"You think Eltrys is purposely inhibiting the Forge?"

"No, but I do believe she is the source of interference."

Thor took a quick scan of the room and the healers that ran about. He pulled Eir to the side, out of hearing, and spoke in a voice that was barely more than a whisper.

"What are you saying, Eir?"

"This may sound unfounded, but hear me out. There is an old, old tale of a great beast that fed on the souls of the ancient universe, before even the Titans were young. The stories say that mighty beings more powerful than all of Asgard put together fought this Soul Eater off and sealed it outside the dimensions. But the tiniest of tendrils escaped through the seam. Of course, this was always a story to frighten children, but...all the signs are there. That darkness seeping from her eyes, the blackest void that Heimdall has ever seen, Lord Baldr's condition...I can't help but come to the conclusion that this ancient enemy is attacking the Aesir."

"Have you spoken to my father about this?"

"No," she said, wringing her hands in a worried way that struck Thor as unusual for the normally straight-backed Eir. "It's not very...scientific. I'd rather find more evidence first. Though with the rumors I've heard of Lady Eltrys' uncharacteristic anger, I'm left believing that she has lost her soul. Or is losing it slowly."

"Eir, I trust your judgement, and if you think it true, Odin needs to know."

She shook her head stiffly. "No! Without the sufficient proof, I fear I may loose my position as Head Healer by presenting such a tale to the All-father."

Thor sighed. "Fine. I will speak to my father, but without your name. In the meantime do what you can for Eltrys."

Satisfied, Eir resumed her usual confident attitude and returned to the Soul Forge.

As he walked the hallways to where Odin resided, Thor milled over how to best present the story to the king.


	12. Chapter 12

The dirty look from a palace manservant was the last straw.

As soon as he had rounded the corner, Ella threw the book she'd been holding to the floor with a yell of frustration and sat on a stone bench, pressing her hands to her head. She needed to get out. To leave. Not permanently, just long enough to escape the silent accusations. A few hours would do fine.

She wore white and gray when she burst into the stables, and her hair was loose and flying when she ordered a cowering stable boy to saddle a horse. An inkling of fury lurked in the back of her mind, but only made it to her lips as slight irritation. She seized the reins handed to her and stored a sword in the sheath hanging from the saddle. Just in case. Within seconds a big chestnut horse slipped through the palace gates, iron shod hooves creating an aching rhythm on the cobblestones. A good ache, the kind of pain from strectching after sitting for hours.

She guided the mare through the wide streets, taking a route to the market road, which would lead out of the city and into the fields. Into isolation. Her first mistake.

She realized this not long after the first wafts of strong spices and fresh fruits hit her. The market roads were overflowing. Standing high on her stirrups, she could see in the distance what seemed to be an accident involving a prancing horse, a collapsed stall, and an excited hound. Three men argued fiercly, faces red and pointed fingers shaking. Ella regarded the scene with annoyance. The petty feud would delay her retreat into solitude; there was no way she could navigate through the crowd, even on a horse. With a huff, she turned the mare to the side and up a shallow ramp. She managed to detour around perhaps fifteen vendor's stalls before having to cut back into the ocean of Asgardians. Ella leaned forward in the saddle, craning her neck around a corner until she could see the road out of the city. Blocked tightly with people trying to go somewhere. With a scowl, she urged the chestnut mare into the crowd.

There was a shout -she could have sworn it was her name- and over the defeaning murmur of the market she heard the low growl of a hunting dog. She ignored both. The second mistake. The horse plowed forward, nudging people to the side none too gently, though unnecessarily, as Ella suddenly found herself the center of an empty circle of ground. The Aesir around her had moved to the side to make room for a group of newcomers. She spun in the saddle, taking in the four men and pack of maddened hounds that were closing in.

"Murderess!" one of them shouted from behind a mask, drawing a wickedly curved knife. The market crowd was now deathly silent and frozen.

"We take revenge for Prince Baldr!" declared another. The dogs growled, seeming to chant _kill, kill, kill._

"She isn't even dressed for mourning! Heartless!" said the third.

"Punish the whore!" a voice from the crowd demanded. There were shocked gasps and calls of agreement alike.

She drew her sword, silently thanking herself for the foresight to bring it. The bright metal flashed in the summer sun, and one of the hounds snapped in response. Ella's horse took a startled step backwards, colliding with one of the masked attackers. The man let loose a crazed yell and slashed at Ella's heel. The blade missed and sliced through the mare's tail. The beast reared and stomped madly against the cobblestones as Ella swung her sharpened sword at the offender. Another lunged and cut through her shin, earning a brief cry of pain from Ella and then a bleeding hand for himself. Her sword bit into the other two men swiftly as the market descended into chaos. A dog fastened its teeth onto one of the mare's forelegs, leaving the horse to kick in pain. Ella nearly lost her footing in the stirrups and wrapped a brused arm around her ride's neck. Her fingers felt slipperly against the soft hide, and she saw a smear of something dark through her adreneline-blurred vision.

In seconds, more blood split onto the stone ground, partially contributed by Ella's veins, but majorly the product of her sword. Foaming fangs grasped at the saddle's strap and it snapped. Ella clung with her knees, but one of the attackers dragged her harshly to the ground. She landed hard, her skull colliding heavily with the stone. Her world went dark for a moment before returning with too much brightness, dancing nauseatingly to the crippling pain in her head. She braced herself for the inevitable sting of a dog's teeth or a sharp knife, but the only new agony was shouting. She squinted from her position in the dirt and slowly sat up. Someone wearing yellow- likely an Eirherjar, knelt next to her as more yellow dragged off growling blurs and thrashing men. The Einherjar was saying something.

"Stop...stop shouting," she pleaded, pressing a palm to her head. It came away a disturbing mix of black and red.

"Lady Eltrys, you cannot stay here," the guard said, motioning for another to quiet her horse. "You are injured; you need to return to the palace. It's not safe here."

Return to the palace? Ella felt the fury waiting in the depths of her mind rising. She needed solitude, the empty fields, not the accusing golden pillars of Odin's palace.

"I'm fine!" she snapped, pushing the Einherjar away. She stood, woozy with a concussion. "Leave me be. I will go back to the palace later." She moved to take the horse's reins.

"I cannot let you do that," he warned as the man holding the horse pulled away.

"Do not presume to give me orders," she growled, taking a step towards him. His eyes widened at something she couldn't see. He gestured to someone behind him and stepped behind Ella. Her anger was redirected to a man emerging from the crowd, walking towards her swfitly and with a purpose. He didn't wear the yellow of Einherjar; his armor was no uniform. Before she could speak, he laid three fingers against her forehead. She felt a prickle of magic, which stung at first, but then lulled her to sleep as she fell backwards into the arms of the waiting Einherjar.

***

Ella supposed she would be shouting at the three Aesir standing around her if she had the energy. But as it was, the spell that put her to sleep had combined with her concussion to create a feeling of exhaustion that dragged her scathing remarks down to nothing. All she could manage was a hateful glare at the man who'd knocked her out. He returned the look with a cheeky grin as he tightened the straps on his leather bracers. She scowled at the gold silhouette of Odin's Palace etched into them that declared his title of Knight of the Realms. She never liked the Knights. 'Overconfident and drunk on power' had been her mother's opinion, something she'd passed on to Ella.

Thor was silent until the healer had packed up and left the room. Ella's wounds had already healed, but the damage was still there. The Knight had said there was Blackness in her eyes when he put her to sleep, but all trace of it was gone now. Just bloodstains.

"I do not wish to restrict your freedom, Eltrys; you are not a child who tried to run away," began Thor, "you have full rights to come and go as you wish. But clearly it it is not safe for you to be alone. How strongly would you object to a bodyguard?"

"Very strongly," she replied dryly. She thought she saw a glint of a laugh in Thor's blue eyes.

"A hidden guard to follow at a discreet distance, then," the Knight suggested. There was more than a glint in his expression.

"Jesper," Thor warned, though his voice lacked the grim tone needed to enforce seriousness. Jesper nodded respectfully to Thor and retured to playing with his bracers.

"I have a compromise," continued the prince, "I know for a fact you are skilled with a sword. So, then, a bodyguard until you are properly trained for a street fight rather than a courtyard spar."

She raised an eyebrow at the smugness he held as he delievered this plan, but Ella had no disagreement with it. "Fine. And who will this bodyguard be?"

"A Knight would be most ideal," he said, looking to Jesper. Ella scowled. "But most are too busy with political affairs. The Einherjar cannot be spared. Jesper?"

"I have several captains under my jurisdiction who have nothing to do," Jesper said. "I can assign one of them."

Thor nodded. "Seems agreeable to me. Where will you be, Eltrys, so the guard can find you?"

Ella stood and smoothed her white dress. She titled her chin ever-so slightly upwards as she regarded Thor. "If this captain is worth anything, he ought to be able to find me," she retorted before slipping between the two men and out the door. The echo of Jesper's laughter chased her down the hall as she found herself running even through her tiredness.

***

"And how are you feeling, Eltrys?"

Her only response to Loki's formality was to groan into a pillow.

"I know the feeling," he said. He leaned against a bronze pillar, idly picking at a pomegranate. The dying sunset cast strange shadows on the Asgardian architecture and lit the one of many gathering rooms with a golden hue that was unsettlingly cold. Ella rested her chin on the silk pillow and watched as Loki manipulated a shadow with his boot and a touch of magic.

"I need my freedom," she said, leaning back a little on the iron couch. "If only there was a way to enhance my fighting ability to a level that will suit Thor much faster. Honestly, I think he is only stalling until he can come up with a better solution."

"Hmm."

Ella scowled. "You are utterly useless," she declared bitterly. Loki shrugged and finished off the pomegranate before throwing it off the balcony.

"It's true that my brother is a pain," he admitted, brushing off his hands, "But he is a stubborn pain. If you are to satisfy his conditions, you'll need something better than extra training extra hard."

"Like _what_?"

"You'll think of something," he said, studying a beam of light that broke over his fingers. Ella found herself staring at it, enchanted by it. Watching the fading sunlight an idea hit her.

"Magic," she said simply. Loki looked to her, confusion written on his face.

"What?"

"Magic," Ella repeated. "Magic is a form of fighting. You can teach me _magic_."

The dark-haired prince stared at her for a few silent seconds before bursting into laughter. "Eltrys, only a certain few can wield magic, and they are almost exclusively of royal blood."

She frowned at him. "Maybe I have royal blood, you never know, do you?"

He grinned. "Perhaps there is no harm in checking. I suppose I owe you for robbing you of so much energy on Jotunheim." Loki stepped towards her and took her hand. He reached to the side and seized a beam of sunlight and held it lightly in his fingers. Suddenly wary, Ella jerked her hand from his grip.

"What exactly are you going to do?" she asked. Loki laughed.

"Suspicious are you? Probably for the best. Anyway, since you're wondering, I was going to see if you would react to my magic. Anyone with the potential for sorcery has a wellspring of dark matter at their disposal. If- _IF_ you have magic, something will happen when I well...prod it with my own. Like water being drawn to more water."

Ella regarded him for a moment before cautiously slipping her hand back into his. With a look of satisfaction, he slapped the sunlight into her palm. The beam of light shot through her veins, glowing through her skin brightly. It disappeared at her collarbone as Loki laced his fingers through Ella's and directed her hand towards a potted plant. For a disappointing second, nothing happened.

Then the plant exploded into bright blue flame so hot Ella was sure she felt its heat from across the room.

Loki swore.

"What?" she said, removing her hand and turning to face him. His expression of shock contrasted her own elated features.

"Your power runs incredibly deep. That was a huge burst of energy. I expected no more than a leaf or two to burn, much less a full bonfire."

"Does this mean yes?"

Loki nodded slowly, still staring at the now-smoking plant. "Indeed," he gave her a sideways glance, "I will instruct you in the ways of magic."

"And how long will that take?"

"Forever. One can never stop learning. But if I show you only the basics, I can leave the rest to you and the extensive palace library." He took a thin piece of black chalk from a pocket and knelt on the polished floor. A small witchlight formed in the air and followed his hand as he began to sketch a diagram at her feet.

"What are you doing?" she asked, peering at the drawing. He looked up with the smallest of smirks.

"You want to learn quickly, you may as well start now. Besides, sorcery is a task for the night. You said you knew ancient Asgardian, right? Well, this is a kind of modification. See this rune here..."


	13. Chapter 13

Four months after Baldr last opened his eyes, Ella wasn't quite sure what exactly she was still doing in the palace.

Not that she wanted to return to her father's farm, but she was quickly running out of excuses to stay. Loki had long since abandoned her to the books of sorcery, though he occasionally supplied a critique as he passed her in the library. The captain that Jesper had assigned no longer believed his vigil was at all necessary, though Thor wasn't quite satisfied. She had been jumped by two vengeful thugs in one of the more public palace gardens, but had easily coated the white stones with their blood. Thor had been impressed how she'd handled the situation, but at the same time guessed they had no training and wouldn't have been a problem to anyone. Angry, Ella had thrown a mug at his blonde head, which barely missed but still soaked him in ale. Ella could almost feel herself slipping into a darker realm every time that lurking fury surfaced.

The scholars had still found nothing but vague fairy tales and unintelligible rhymes about the Blackness. Loki was completely unmoved by her pleas to clear her name; he still maintained that he was nowhere near the attack when it happened. She had to wonder what schemes he'd been up to that night to deny his presence in that side of the palace. Like with Thor, Loki made her furious. Unlike with Thor, she did not through a mug at him, but resorted to locking the anger away for a later time.

The servants were clearing perhaps the fifth round of drinks from a gathering hall after the end of harvest feast when the letter came. Erland the palace steward brought it to her, and she stepped into an alcove obscured by a fluttering curtain to read the message. It was a small white envelope slightly bent from being in the courier's bag. She flipped it over and recognized her mother's clean, practical script. A feeling of dread pierced her heart. It was the first letter ever; there was no telling what it contained. Had someone died? Her father? Eony? Using her dagger intended for sorcery, she slit the thin envelope.

_Eltrys,_

_There is only one way I know of to say these words, so I hope you understand if this seems overly harsh._

_I believe it is time for you to leave Odin's palace. With Baldr gone, there is nothing for you there. Though I suppose there is very little for you here, either. I know that you agreed to marry the prince only to show me you are a worthy daughter. Your scheme worked, until now. I regret to say that I can see very little value in you if you are nothing but a girl who almost wed a prince. You cannot understand what the rumors of you have put me through. I've heard the womenfolk saying horrifying things like "Did you hear that the Skovsgaard girl was the one that cost us the prince? What a shame. If only Svala Skovsgaard had raised her daughter better." Your shame has fallen upon me, something I cannot bear. I suggest you find yourself a purpose in the palace, or return home._

_I hope you understand this is not out of a lack of love for you, but rather the opposite. I am doing my best._

The signature didn't contain a 'love mother', or 'best wishes' but only a simple 'Svala'.

Ella stared at the letter, heartbreak tearing through her. Sure, she'd never been overly fond of her mother, but she never expected something so...drastic. She felt a sob rising in her throat, but like the flip of a switch, the misery transformed into hatred and the parchment crumbled into powder in her fist, falling from her hand like wet sand. She let the remains fall to the floor, not quite sure if it was the destroyed ink that crept over her fingers or something more sinister. She stared at the small pile until a name broke her from the trance.

"Baldr was a waste of energy, in my opinion. It's no wonder his fiancé wanted him gone."

Ella heard the words from across the room. She looked around the curtain to see a small group of richly dressed courtiers, drink in hand, lazily gossiping. The speaker was a young man, totally unremarkable in his conventionally handsome appearance; his most notable feature being extremely fair hair, a common sight in Asgard.

"Truer words have never been spoken," agreed a woman with a painfully expensive-looking dress. Something about her voice irked Ella. "I mean, he was kind, but accomplished nothing for Asgard that I know of. And believe me, if he did, I would know."

A tall woman sipped from her mug before adding to the conversation. "I can't help but disagree. I believe Baldr could have done great things worthy of song if he'd only been given more time."

Ella thought this woman was the best of the group until she kept talking.

"It's such a shame he had to fall for a farmer's daughter who couldn't even wait until she could get her calloused hands on his inheritance before doing away with him."

Ella decided now was the time to make an appearance. She located her bodyguard, checked that the drinking had rendered him useless, and adopted a regal air before taking the calm, but quick steps over to the nobles.

"But I suppose she's left the palace now. Not a place for a woman like her. What was her name, anyway? Elynn? Elyss?" wondered the young man.

"Eltrys is the word you're looking for."

Shocked, the three courtiers turned to face her. The tall woman made the mistake of looking her dead in the eye. Ella saw the intimidation written all over her soft features. The man, however, seemed perfectly comfortable. His confidence irritated Ella.

"Lady Eltrys," purred the man, "I assumed you were no longer here."

"I heard. What is your name?" she asked, stepping closer. She noted again how handsome, but unremarkable, his appearance was. Her breath caught at his thin grin; not out of attraction or recognition, but vexation at his casual tone.

"Jokull Hallrson," he replied with the smallest of bows. It was not a gesture of respect. Hallrson looked at her expectantly, clearly waiting for her admiration of his bloodline. His grin slipped when she didn't react. "Hallrson," he prodded, "Son of Hallr of the Merchant Lords of Upper Asgard?"

Ella narrowed her eyes at him. "Am I supposed to be impressed?" She pushed past him into the hallway, hoping he would follow indignantly. The dark place in her head was threatening to spill over into violence. Not a conversation for a gathering hall. On cue, he abandoned the two women and stomped after her.

"Yes, I do believe you are. My family has governed the trade market between Asgard and other realms for millenia. I have the blood of some of the Golden Realm's most prominent heroes in my veins. My father has nearly the influence of Queen Frigga in the All-father's ear. Though as a simple farm girl I cannot expect you to understand-"

She whirled around to face him, her glower illuminated by freshly lit torches and dark hair stirred by nighttime wind.

"I know who the Merchant Lords are. In fact, I have dealt with them before. I am not a 'simple farm girl' to be awed by your petty recitation of bloodlines. If you must know, my family tree is the mighty oak called Skovsgaard, and without my father's farms, you would not wear rings on your dainty fingers. I couldn't care less if your name was Hallrson or Bor-son. Your power does not move me, and you have no right to speak wrongly of men greater than yourself. Men such as Baldr." Her voice was rising as she advanced on him, close enough now to taste the spiced wine on his breath. To her annoyance, he did not cower.

"What are you going to do, kill me?"

Ella stared at him for exactly four and a half seconds before the Blackness followed through with its threat. She grabbed the man's shoulder, flipped her dagger from its sheath and sunk it into his stomach in a motion so quick it was hard to follow. The anger in her expression was so strong that the knife might not have been necessary for the killing.

"Yes. Yes I am," she spat into the nobleman's surprised, pain-distorted face. Warm blood flowed down his expensive shirt, staining the stitched white birds a dark red, soaked in by the thick cloth. She let his body fall to the ground before stretching out a hand to spark an eldritch flame that consumed his body in a flash of yellow light.

The darkness that coated her eyes reflected the light of the fire in the coldest way possible as Eltrys reached to pull out the knife. She burned the blood from it and her hands, savoring the fire's warmth that did not touch her. With a grim expression, she forced the Blackness to recede from her face and returned to the feast.

There was no tremble when Eltrys held her cup, but she felt something die inside her. It left a hole that made her feel dizzy; she passed it off as the copious amounts of alcohol. But the sickness was still there. A voice whispered something in her ear and she flinched. But when she looked around, she saw no one speaking to her. The gentle crooning returned, and this time she understood it.

_'Poor, sweet Ella, unsure of what's happening. But my mistake, that's not who you are. Hard Eltrys, cruel Eltrys, desperate Eltrys. You murdered her, Eltrys, along with the nobleman. You killed Ella, and now she's gone.'_

She drowned the voice in mead.

* * *

Hallrson's disappearance was noticed in due time and reported to the Knight of the Realms that presided over Asgard- Jesper. A chambermaid said she'd seen the whole thing- the deceased and a woman had argued loudly outside the feast until the woman killed Hallrson and destroyed the evidence with magic. Of course, she hadn't recognized the woman, so naturally the main suspect was Eltrys. Who else in the palace had a reputation for murder? Once someone of her status was accused, Jesper passed the judgement on to Odin.

Odin had no sympathy.

Eltrys supposed his dislike of her was a result of Baldr, though he never said anything to suggest it. She knew it from the look in his eyes and the edge to his voice when he said her name.

"I cannot punish you for this crime," he began. They stood looking down over the city, Eltrys a little behind the All-father. He did not address her directly. "There is not enough clear evidence."

She thanked him in a dead-pan voice.

"But this does not mean I do not believe you capable or probable to do such a thing. I see no honor in you, and you have done nothing to prove me wrong. I do not expect you to. In fact, I can see no way that you can accomplish a feat as to bring glory to your name. Respect for your talents, perhaps, but never will they sing songs of you, I will make sure of that."

"Well don't stop there, All-father," she taunted, words as bitter as wormwood, "Shout to all the realm everything wicked I've done. Don't worry, it won't take long. The list is short."

He turned on her. "You will keep such comments to yourself, girl, and give obeisance to your king. Your crimes may be few, but I can see nothing but your own cruelty in your future. Vile schemes and the roguish acts of a child with too much power. You have no honor!" Odin repeated, shouting now.

Eltrys grinned, satisfied at the ease of provoking Odin. He seemed to realize this and scowled through the thick white beard. "Get out, before I change my mind about not condemning you."

"Haven't you already?"

Odin would have likely struck Eltrys for her insolence, but she was already gone.


	14. Chapter 14

Eltrys kept thinking about the letter. She'd destroyed it, but the words were ingrained in her mind, like a song that won't stop replaying.

So now she dwelt on it and let it fester in her heart as she made the journey home.

The healers had been the one to recommend a brief return to her home country for health's sake, and Thor had echoed their statement for her safety's sake.

_"You may be able to defend yourself in an attack, but there is little to protect you from poison or sabotage," he'd said. Eltrys had reluctantly agreed, though as she'd moved to leave Thor, he'd taken her by the arm and whispered a warning._

_"Do not let this seem like a sign of weakness, Eltrys. Tell those who ask that you are going to tie up some loose ends at home. If the court thinks you have surrendered, they will feast on you like wolves."_

_She'd said nothing in reply, only nodded a thank you._

Eltrys was pulled from her thoughts by a call to halt near the edge of the first country farms. She slowed her horse to a stop and located the source. A man on a black horse was approaching from a side road through the wheat fields. She squinted and recognized Audunn, one of Eony's older brothers. He was as hugely muscled as ever, but she noticed he had a new found sense of confidence that had glazed over what she remembered as a shy smile.

"Audunn!" she called as he caught up to her, "I hadn't realized I was so close to home already."

"You're not." he replied, flicking his black hair behind his ear. He urged his horse forward, and she continued with him. "I'm on patrol. It's still an hour or so away."

"Patrol? You're a soldier, now, then?"

"Since last spring. With Hroar taking over the family business, and two of my sisters married, I figured it was time to leave my parent's home, and what greater honor than a warrior's sword?"

Eltrys smiled out of the corner of her mouth. "Indeed. And Eony?"

"I have seen little of Eony, to be honest. She and Gunnhildr spent their hours tending to my grandmother, who died last month." He paused and gave her a sympathetic look. The old woman had been Eltrys' grandmother in spirit, whispering the secrets of the realms to her and Eony's ears at the early hours of the morning, and teaching their voices to sing. Eltrys knew she was supposed to feel some measure of sadness, but she felt no change in her mood. She only pulled a frown for Audunn's sake. He continued.

"Since then, she has kept the company of those from the noble houses of Asgard when they pass through town. I suppose she hopes for the same escape you found from the countryside. Eony always enjoyed the higher life. Though, from what I hear, that ended badly for you, Eltrys." He was smiling, but he choked the grin down at the sight of her scowl.

"And who told you that, Audunn?" she asked, clearing her expression. He relaxed.

"Your mother. Well, she didn't tell me personally, but I overheard her and my own mother talking. It got around the house. Then around town. Then the farms...simply put, Ella, everyone knows about Baldr."

Her mood blackened.

"Do they now?" she murmured. It wasn't meant for Audunn, but he heard.

"Yes. They're not fond of you, the people. Personally I don't think you would be capable of such a deed, but I've heard many drunk ramblings of your death. And your mother...the way she goes on and on about it. It's exhausting."

Eltrys felt something snap within her. "What a shame," she replied while the small angry itch in the back of her mind crooned softly._ Just kill her, it said, everything would be so much easier without Svala Skovsgaard, wouldn't it? _

She had to agree.

"Well," sighed Audunn, I must be getting on. Farewell, Ella. Don't do anything to cause more rumors!"

He directed his horse back onto a side road, turned a corner into a hayfield, and was gone.

The voice's whispers gave her a headache. A pounding headache that felt like the rhythm of a war drum. It throbbed faster and faster and she urged her horse to match its beat. Svala would be in the stable at this time of day, she reminded herself. Alone with nothing but the muteness of a horse to witness her death. Eltrys found herself passing through the gate of the large stone house in record time, the horse's hooves beating the distance into submission. She rounded the corner to the stables and slid off the still galloping horse. With a few short steps she was in the cool sanctuary of the stable.

Svala was there, in a heavy green dress adorned with bronze. But she was not alone. A masked man held a crossbow level with her chest while another was swiftly untying the three horses. A robbery. Svala clung desperately to a wooden beam, and Eltrys detested the look of fear on her face.

Eltrys shouted. The man stopped untying the animals, and Svala's panicking green eyes pleaded with Eltrys for deliverance. A swift moment of silence crept into the stable like a slinking cat, and then fled at Eltrys' anger.

"What do you think you're doing?" she yelled, though at the thieves or her mother she wasn't sure.

"This a robbery, you stinking fool. What do you _think_ it is?" the man with the crossbow sneered.

"Well, I was hoping for your sake you were rehearsing for the town play," she replied with a dangerous calm.

"Wouldn't that be nice. No, we're going to take these lovely beasts and sell them for a nice tidy sum and then leave this hel-hole of a town," he spat. "And if you know what's good for you, you'll stay right there and not try anything. Otherwise the lady here will be tasting iron."

"Eltrys, please," Svala whispered. "Do something."

"Silence, mother," Eltrys commanded before turning back to the robber. She smiled slowly, her eyes soft but sharp at the same time. "I'll give you to the count of five to drop the crossbow and leave."

"Or what?" the other thief challenged.

"Or I'll rip your bodies limb from limb," she countered. "Five...four...three...two-"

The man panicked and released the crossbow trigger. It slammed into its target with a whistle, faster than anyone could blink. Svala slumped against the wooden wall, pinned by the bolt. The horses stomped at the sight.

He barely had time to stare in shock before Eltrys' electric blue magic swept over him and tore at his body like a vengeful ghost. The arc of his blood cleared the rafters and coated the ceiling. His partner climbed on top of a horse and fled the stable. She followed him into the sunlight, and with a well-placed spell, halted the horse in its tracks and sent him flying several feet into the browning grass. From the way he thrashed, she knew something was broken. She left him there and returned to her mother.

Svala was choking on her own blood, its smell filling the large stable. Eltrys felt her bloodlust fading as he mother called out to her. Svala's voice was warmer than what she remembered, and something threatened to spill out of Eltrys' heart

"Ella, help me," Svala coughed. The light in her green eyes was dying fast.

"I don't know how," she whispered, kneeling in the wet hay. Svala seemed to accept this, and wrapped her cold hand around Eltrys'.

"I'm so sorry, Ella. For what I've done to you."

Those were her dying words, and for the life of her, Eltrys could not decide if they were sincere, or even if she wanted them to be. She drew her mother's body into her arms and held her there. But she couldn't find it in herself to cry.

* * *

The family barrow led deep into the ground, underneath the ancient lake a few miles from home. Eltrys hated that lake. For all its beauty, it remained ugly and jarring to her. As she stood watching its gentle waves embrace the shore, the memory came easily.

In the winter, the waters of the lake would freeze to create a huge expanse of eerie smoothness, just the right consistency for homemade ice skates crafted from an old pair of boots and a few coins paid to the metalsmith. With Eony's siblings and Ella's horse for company, the trip would be made weekly, and the children would skate all day, and often into the night, spinning on the freezing surface under the bright winter stars. Then there came a winter where the snows failed. The wind was too weak to howl and bite, and the cold struggled to force people into their coats. But they skated anyway. Three times that winter they made the journey, only lingering on the edges of the lake where the ice was strongest. As Eony's youngest sister, Eyja had the same sunshine hair and eyes of the kind of blue that stories are made of. But Eyja had none of her sisters' shy spirits. She ventured out onto the lake in her warm fur skates and danced under the moonlight. Eony and Ella watched, unafraid, confident in their childish innocence, even encouraging her daring determination. A small fault in the ice crept through the lake viciously, stalking Eyja's steps until it caught up with her, and the otherwise flawless surface cracked and swallowed her whole.

None of them could swim.

Fishermen couldn't recover the body until the winter died. The corpse they reclaimed from the lake was was paler than death, with ice on her fingertips and fear in her dead eyes. The body was preserved by the cold, but she wasn't Eyja anymore.

They never skated again.

But that was a century ago.

Now, with Svala sealed within the crypt, Eltrys stared at the place where it happened. She could pinpoint it exactly, down to a few feet, despite the lake's constant movement and uniform waves. From her estimation, Svala's resting place was not far from where Eyja drowned. Feeling the cold water creeping onto her black gown, Eltrys moved away from the lake and back towards the small gathering of mourners. Eony was there, resting on a wooden bench underneath a tree, a bronze helmet in her arms. Eltrys joined her.

"Do you remember Eyja?" Eltrys asked.

"Of course I remember Eyja. She was my sister."

"No, but do you remember? Do you remember the panic we felt when we saw the ice crack? How it felt to watch her drown in the frozen lake? The guilt when we couldn't get to her in time to save her from our own fun?"

"I try not to. But sometimes this little wave of nausea comes over me and I see it all over again. You know, for a long time, I heard the ice crack every time I closed my eyes." She looked up into Eltrys' face. "Why do you ask?"

A sigh escaped her lips. "Because when Eyja died a felt a hole in me. I was devastated. But now, with my mother dead, I don't feel that."

Eony held an unsettling lack of surprise. "What do you feel, then?"

"Like I've forgotten something."

The blonde girl squeezed the helmet she held. "I don't know what to tell you, Ella. Other than that you've changed. And I don't think it's for the better."

"What do you mean?"

"You scare me, Ella, to tell the truth. It was the look I saw in your eyes when I arrived at your house yesterday morning. You looked like a wounded animal; accepting of your fate but ready to maim those who touched you. And now what you've just told me. I know you never had a good relationship with your mother, but the Ella I know would at least pretend to be a mess for the sake of those around her. Especially your father."

They sat in silence for a time, watching as the funeral slowly dissipated. Eony's family and Eltrys' father signaled that they were leaving. Eony called back that they would follow later.

"What happened to you in the palace, Ella?" Eony asked, breaking the quiet. "Was it Baldr? Did his 'death' kill your light? Was it that that drained the life from you? It's like your heartbeat has gone flat. You're a ghost."

"I don't know," she replied hoarsely. Eony gave her a look that made Eltrys turn away, that should of made her feel guilty, but still she didn't.

"Did you love him?"

"I don't know," Eltrys repeated.

Eony stood, and pulled her to her feet.

"Fine. I understand. I want to know, but for now, you need rest. We all do."

In the middle of the night, Eltrys woke from her unsatisfying sleep and sat up. In the dark, with a feeble string of moonlight seeping through the curtained window, a rough sob escaped her. She didn't cry for Svala, but for Baldr. And it hurt. It felt like falling down a well made of razor sharp daggers.

* * *

The harvest season of Asgard always held a strange flavor in the air. It was the ripening of the sweetest apples, baking bread, and brewing ale. Brilliant hues of red and orange drifted through the orchards, streaked with foreign blue or white leaves of crops from outer realms. And as Eltrys put her horse through its paces on the edge of her father's fields, she tasted a break in that aroma. It was bitter and harsh and laced with the strength of magic.

She stood in the stirrups of her sweating horse to get a better view of the distant borderlands between Asgard and Vanaheim. Not too far away, she glimpsed movement. Black specks, and when she squinted, flashes of white steel and blue sorcery.

A battle to ease her boredom; an opportunity to test her magic in real combat.

She gathered her sword from where it lay nearby and coaxed the heaving horse onward.

As she rode closer, it didn't take Eltrys long to recognize the creatures that had sent Loki and herself to Jotunheim. Their unique body type aside, not many creatures she knew fought with scythes. There were about four or five. Their opponent took a little longer to identify, though they were clearly Asgardian by their battle cries and constant oaths. She didn't get a clear look at their faces until not less than twenty feet away. Fandral and Sif.

Fandral was fending off two with his longsword, jumping over their swipes as they came. The Lady Sif was locked sword-to-scythe with one of the creatures, and didn't notice the other coming up behind her.

Eltrys sent an arcane wave towards the creature, knocking it flat on the ground. But it pulled itself up by its weapon, regaining stance quickly. Fandral called out a gleeful greeting to Eltrys as she sunk her sword into its crumbling stone shoulder. It screeched, an unearthly sound, but the wound did not seem to slow it down. Instead, it grabbed her arm as she moved to pull the blade. With a deft movement, it swung Eltrys over itself and released her to a hard landing on the crispy grass. Dirt filled her mouth and she coughed harshly. But luckily it was blood draining from her nose and not that hideous black filth.

Fandral finally cut down one of his opponents. "Go for the neck!" he called out. Eltrys pushed herself onto her knees and squinted at her chosen mark. The sword was still buried in the creature's shoulder, but at an angle. There was no way she'd be able to pull it out without risking serious injury; the creature's flesh was simply too thick. But perhaps magic could be of use.

She raised her hands towards her weapon. It was a meaningless gesture, but it helped with concentration. With just the right amount of dark matter sent spinning into the right place at the right angle...

With a crack, the blade swung upwards and tore a hole from its original entry up the neck and clean through the other side. The creature screamed again, shuddered violently, and fell to the ground. Its fiery blue veins pulsed and slowly died.

Fandral beheaded the other creature at almost the same time Sif plunged her short spear into the throat of the final attacker. Sif's method had a slightly different effect, and the stony features of the beast shrank down into each other, and then exploded. Burning rocks rained down around them, smoke the color of the sky drifting lazily upwards.

Sif turned to face Eltrys, smiling, but breathing hard.

"Thank you, Eltrys," she huffed. "You may have saved me a grevious wound. I wasn't watching you, but guessing by the speed at which you killed the Stoneman, you fought well."

"Stonemen? Is that what they're called?" Eltrys asked, picking up a piece of the destroyed creature. It was hard and brittle, the edges crumbling in her fingertips.

"We needed a name other than 'those beasts with the rocky skin and azure glow,'" explained Fandral. She didn't disagree.

"Any idea what their mission is yet?"

"No," admitted Sif, "But we've been tracking these for about a day now. We spotted them closer to the city, in a larger group. Thor, Hogun, and Volstagg are after the rest as we speak."

Fandral moved away to a patch of taller grass to clean his sword; there was no blood, only ashy dust that clung to the metal. Sif stepped closer to Eltrys.

"You used magic, did you not, to fight the Stoneman?" she asked. Her voice was low, as if there was something to hide.

"Yes."

"Would you ever consider becoming one of Asgard's soliders, Eltrys? We could use more fighters with knowledge of the arcane arts in our ranks. Loki and the Knights of the Realms can't be everywhere at once."

Eltrys let the remainder of the rocky substance crumble into dust, squinting at Sif. "Are you serious?" she asked.

"The Lady Sif is not one for jests," put in Fandral, returning and sheathing his blade. "And I, for one, agree with her. Your magic would be a valuable asset, if you can learn to use it in war."

_You want the people of Asgard to look past Baldr's death, don't you?_ she told herself._ Everyone loves a soldier._

"I'll consider it," Eltrys replied. It was the truth.

Fandral smiled. "We'll speak to Thor on your behalf. You won't regret this, Eltrys, I promise."

She called her horse over from where it had been nudging at the dying grass, ignoring the whole skirmish. With a snort, it trotted over.

"If you need a ride back to the city, there are horses for rent in town, not far off," she offered, taking her mount's reins.

Sif recovered her spear. "Lead the way."


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Sorry if you tried to read this chapter earlier and had a mess of HTML...but it should be fixed now**

* * *

With a firm tug, Eltrys tightened her horse's girth and fastened it with the bronze buckle. She gave the saddle a push to make sure it didn't slide, and satisfied, moved to mount. A voice stopped her.

"Ella, wait!" called Eony. She walked quickly, but not enough to be called a run. But despite her apparent grace, Eltrys could see that she'd arrived hastily. Her slightly off-center dress, tousled hair, and sleep-thickened voice were proof of this. She didn't blame her; there was still a few hours before the sun would rise.

She complied and snagged her horse's reins with one hand, waiting patiently for Eony to get closer. The blonde finally stopped, gave herself a moment to breathe, and grinned.

"You're leaving early."

"It's a long ride," Eltrys replied with a shrug. Eony hummed and gingerly stroked the horse's velvet nose, gave it a pat, and held out a small package to Eltrys.

"What's this?"

"Just something I found at home. I saw it and thought it would suit you."

Eltrys took the small cloth bag from Eony's palm and emptied its contents into her own. A very small golden ring fell out, glinting ever so slightly in the low light. It was shaped with simple branches that grasped at a rough, milky white stone, just the right size to slip on her little finger. Eony gave her a satisfied, but reserved smile.

"Ella, I've been meaning to ask...why did you never marry Baldr? You had an entire year before..." she trailed off, unsure of how to finish.

"It just never happened. He was always either gone or had something to take care of. There just wasn't any time. Why?"

It was Eony's turn to shrug. "I don't know, I was just curious. People say that you killed him for the money and title, but that doesn't make sense. Mainly because I can not imagine that you would be a murderer."

An image of Hallrson the nobleman flashed before her, bathed in blood. She blinked it away and forced a smile.

"Thank you, Eony."

"Of course. Now be on your way; I'm sure you have things to do. And who knows? With luck I may be joining you in the city soon."

Eltrys only nodded, tucked the ring away, and mounted her horse. A light rain began to fall, trapping the dust raised by her horse's hooves as she moved off.

* * *

Odin hadn't been thrilled about Eltrys being a part of his army, but through some mysterious method, Sif and Fandral had swayed him. The official reason was the desperate need for non-defensive sorcerers among Asgard's horde. But Eltrys was sure the only thing that could have convinced the All-father to give her such a title was the fact that it would be easier to restrict her actions as a warrior. Nevertheless, she would take it.

Hrothulf, the hulking blonde warrior in charge of new recruits, saw no reason to inflict the basic training on Eltrys, as she had already proven herself to be capable in battle. Though much to her disgust, he did order her to study and memorize Asgard's plethora of honor codes and war formalities, as well as stacks of books on tactics. She was to have three days to prepare herself for an evaluation of her knowledge and skills. If she passed, Eltrys would obtain the title of Warrior of Asgard. Easy.

She went without sleep the next seventy-two hours, pouring over the thousands of war books and soldier's journals that were housed in the palace library. Eltrys found the majority of it fairly interesting, committing to memory the genius battle plans and formations of wars past. Asgard's painfully large amount of battle codes were far less appealing. Eltrys' scowl deepened at every added page of rules of engagement. They seemed to be nothing but restrictions that limited Asgard's effectiveness, being good for nothing but reasons to convict criminals. But unfortunately, she could do nothing about that.

She was standing in the library, pulling impossibly heavy tomes of magic and history from the gleaming golden shelves and dropping them unceremoniously onto a nearby table. Dust filled her throat and turned her soft breaths into violent coughs, though fortunately her lips remained clean of any sickly dark liquid. After the coughing subsided, a thick voice called to her from a good distance away. Though irritated at the disturbance, she turned, running a hand roughly through her dark hair.

One of the Einherjar stood waiting at the end of the long shelf. He held a package in his gloved hands, the ancient dust swirling around him lazily. He stepped forward and held the package out to Eltrys.

"My lady, a peasant brought this to the palace gates, saying he had instructions to make sure it was delivered to you."

She accepted it and cut open the cloth wrapping with a knife. A rope lay coiled inside the cloth, which she pulled out and let swing. It was a hangman's noose. Her initial surprise quickly turned into annoyance.

"What a refined sense of humor," she remarked. Her fingers twitched and the the rope lit up like a candle wick, soon becoming nothing more than an ashen powder.

"Thank you for the delivery," she said to the guard. He let an odd expression briefly cross over his helmeted face before bowing stiffly and exiting the library.

As soon as his footsteps fading, Eltrys leaned her head against the shelf and sighed heavily. The people's intense dislike of her was a serious issue. It wasn't that she truly cared what they thought of her, but having to worry about death threats and murder attempts every time she left the relative safety of Odin's palace made many things difficult. And it was just plain exhausting. Something would have to be done about it.

With a scowl, she reached for the next book on the shelf and slammed it on the oaken table, raising another cloud of dust.

* * *

Nine years of nothing passed. Eltrys hadn't expected being officially a Warrior of Asgard would be terribly exciting without a proper war, but neither had she foreseen how mind-numbingly boring it would be. The occasional border skirmish with renegades or clash with Stonemen were the petty highlights of her commission, being always brief and easy. Rituals took up most of her time; as a solider who physically lived inside Odin's palace, she was a convenience to the Master of Ceremonies and unable to avoid them. Eltrys could nearly feel her intelligence draining every time she was forced to stand at attention in Odin's throne room for the recognition of a diplomat or foreign prince.

There were few benefits to being a warrior, including a salary she didn't need and armor she disliked. The only thing she found truly favorable was the excessive amount of training that was required. She was still no match for Loki in knowledge and finesse of magic, but she was able to overpower many other warriors through both endurance and sheer will. It seemed to her that she had a bottomless well of energy that came from nowhere and could not be explained; with it she was able to defeat many older and more experienced fighters. It was one certain thing to not complain about.

She contemplated this after an early breakfast, before the sun had dared climb above the horizon. She absentmindedly traced arcane patterns into the heavy wooden table with a trail of light that would flare red then fade into nothing but a memory burned into one's eyelids. Someone slid onto the bench beside her as she finished the the third strand on a knotted rune.

"Good morning, Eltrys."

"What do you want, Jesper?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Well that's just rude."

"My deepest apologies, O Knight of Asgard," she yawned, completing the rune. Jesper coughed a laugh.

"See, that's just the thing, though. I'm not the Knight of Asgard anymore."

Eltrys frowned. "Oh really? I didn't know a Knight could be fired and still live."

"Ah, no," he said, gently shoving her shoulder and grinning. "I've been promoted. Not just a Knight now. Odin is officially naming me the Archknight this afternoon. Archknight Ymir retired. Good thing, too- he's so ancient he can hardly lift a sword."

"Good for you. Why do I need to know?"

"Truly, Eltrys, you are a depressing soul to be around. Are you ever happy? No, don't answer that."

Her face was completely devoid of emotion.

"Well, fine," Jesper huffed. "I'll just tell you. With my promotion, there's a vacancy for the Knight of Asgard."

"Obviously."

"The other Knights are too settled to be reassigned."

"What a pity."

"Buri, Eltrys! Don't you see what I'm getting at?" Jesper stood and waved his arms in disbelief.

"You need a new Knight. I don't see why you're being so theatrical about it."

He moaned and dropped back onto the bench.

"Eltrys, I want you to take my place."

She stopped her tracing of the wood and stared blankly into his brown eyes for a long moment before bursting into laughter. He waited.

"You must be joking," she said between heavy breaths, but his expression lacked humor. Her smile flattened.

"Jesper, that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," she said quietly, skeptical of his seriousness. "First of all, I'm not qualified."

"I beg to differ. I've seen your magic. It's impressive."

She made a choking sound in her throat, gesturing wildly. "Odin would never agree to such a thing!"

"Odin doesn't have a say. I am the Archknight, not him."

"And you know I'm not exactly a supporter of the whole Knight of the Realms system!"

Jesper laughed. "You will be once you get a taste of it. Without fail, every naysayer I've met has had nothing but a bad understanding of the structure."

Eltrys curled her lip at the floor. "What reason do you have to offer this to me, Jesper?" she asked after a moment.

He leaned back against the table, yawning. "Well, it's not that I trust you. At least, not you personally. But I do have great faith in your skills as a sorcerer and as a warrior. I know how extensive your knowledge base is. You spend an awe-inspiring amount of time in that library. And I happen to know you are incredibly bored with life as a mere soldier."

He snorted at her scowl, knowing he was right.

"Well, that's settled, then. Next week, I think, once I've got a hang of things as Archknight. Oh, cheer up, my lovely Eltrys, you just became one of the most powerful individuals in the realm. Maybe one day those Midgardians will be singing songs of your feats."


End file.
